Be Careful
by W1ndeh
Summary: Cassie, Be careful. Being careful was my parent's dead bodies in your arms. Being careful was a starving mouth to feed, a sister to care for. Being careful was my name in the tribute bowl. Cassia Green will not be careful, because thats how you die.
1. Prologue

A/N

I will be working on this as the story goes along. So these details may be altered slightly during the fan fiction. Thanks and enjoy. This will be your general information section.

Biography (not essential to read, but would help to know some back story)

Cassia Green

Daughter to Wilton and Samara Green

Sister to Blossom and Ogden Green

Dating Rowan Estelle

Friends with Jasper, and Willow Estelle

Other friends mentioned, not impacting on the story.

Cassia is tall, with a tanned skin tone, brown hair that reaches down her back, and forest green eyes, that have brown spots in them. She is quite slender, muscular body figure. She is a fast runner and excellent at climbing trees.

Cassia has her birthday 5 months after the hunger games, in the story she is currently 16 years old, and has only had her name entered into the games 5 times.

Cassie for short, used to work as a tree scout for loggers, she would climb the tree before it was cut down, to see if there were any animals in it. Very humble job requires ability to hold animal while climbing down tree using only legs. Doesn't like killing animals, so took the job to save them. Lost her job when the employer ran out of money.

Been friends with Rowan for her entire life, started dating when she was 15, family friends, although his family is not as well off as hers. They have a very loving relationship, never been apart, don't fight, generally in love. Rowan is a year older than Cassie, he is tall, muscular, green eyes, with brown in them, and he has dark brown curly hair that is a long, short. (Don't think that makes much sense.)

Cassie is good friends with Rowans younger brother Jasper, who is 15, (two years younger than Rowan, one year younger that Cassie) Rowan once employed Jasper to follow Cassie, as a joke, he did a very good job, although Cassie noticed after a day. One day, as this was happening, Cassie had to go to work; she was climbing in a tree, across a river when Jasper fell in. He takes it as a joke, and occasionally follows Cassie for Rowan. Jasper and Cassie have a joking relationship, and spend a lot of time pranking Rowan for the fun of it. Jasper has medium length (for a guy) light brown hair. He is shorter than Rowan, but still a little taller than Cassie. He has light green eyes, and a tannish complexion.

Cassie's brother Ogden is a very quiet person, who has never really gotten along the same path as Cassie. He acknowledges his sister, but they never really talk, or get together for bonding time. Ogden is three years older than Cassie. He is tall, black hair, short.

Cassie's sister Blossom, is also very quiet, likes to draw, and has a caring nature towards Cassie. She is 12 years old, and this is her first year at the reaping. She does now talk to Cassie much, or anyone, however gets on very well with Rowan's little sister Willow, who is very similar and 10 years old.

Blossom has long golden brown hair that reaches just past her shoulders, green eyes. Willow has longer hair, is younger, her hair is a medium blonde, and she has green/blue eyes.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fan fiction, and the only one I will be writing, for the moment. It will be rated M, as there will be some violence, gruesome things, and some implied mature themes. It is a Hunger Games fan fiction; I do not own anything about the hunger games. Any names that are similar to other stories are completely coincidental. Please enjoy, and it would be great if you could review and fave! Thanks.

Chapter one.

Cassie Green.

That is me, and everything you could want to know about me. I live in district 7, the district of lumber; it is a fairly ordinary place, like me. It is a place full of forests, water, families and community. I live here with my family, my mother Samara, my father Wilton, my older brother Ogden and my little sister Blossom. We live in a small wood shack, on the outskirts of district 7 near my Fathers shop, he works as a carpenter, and my mother works in his shop making luxury papers for the Capitol. My brother still lives with us, even though he is 19, and works for his own living, He is building his own house on the other side of the district in his spare time, though. He works cutting down the trees for my father's woodworking business, and for other carpenters in our area.

I do a lot of ordinary teenage things with my life, I have friends I hang out with, I go to school, I play in the forest in my spare time. My parents make enough money to support our family, and they would take the clothes of their back to stop us being put into the games.

The hunger games, I hate them, there is no way I would volunteer for them, and my chance of being in them is much slimmer that the rest of the people in my district, none of them have enough food, so their children take a lot of tesserae. They buy food from the capitol in exchange for their children's names being put in another time. I'm sick at the thought; there is no way my parents would even consider it. They love me and my siblings too much to put us into that terrible game, but in the end, it is the capitol who decides. My brother was lucky, he was never called, and I am well on my way to being over and done with the games as well. My sister Blossom is 12 though, and she has another six years in the bowl for tribute.

"The hunger games are an annual event, held every year, in which, each district of Panem shall offer up one young man, and one young woman between the ages of twelve and eighteen called tributes. They shall be picked at random, at a public reaping." Blah, Blah, Blah…..

I zoned out after watching the video for the third time, yet my Panem insist on reshowing the hunger games that happened six months ago, here now, six months before reaping, just to keep it on our minds. I don't know who the winner was, some other career district, I have no taste for such gruesome event to be shown, again and again.

"Cassia Green!" mother yelled, this can't be good, she never usually calls me anything but Cassie, I walk hastily towards the kitchen, it is nine pm, on a Saturday evening, and I don't recall myself doing anything wrong. I can feel myself panicking a little inside; I keep my voice calm "Yes" I call out curiously as I walk towards her.

I reach her, in the kitchen, and she is holding a frying pan, covered in soapy water, "What time is it?" she asks glaring at me, my eyes widen, I can feel the pressure in her voice. "Nine o'clock, mum." I whisper softly, looking down at the floorboards, she looks really angry, and hell hath no fury like a mother scold.

He grabs me from behind, two arms around my waist, picking me up, squeezing and swinging me around the small kitchen space, his arms put pressure on my diaphragm; I am struggling for a breath as he holds me, and he must have been hiding behind the kitchen door. I squeal slightly, as he starts tickling my sides. I am out of breathe, I glance behind me, it's only Rowan, Mum is smiling, I get it now, it was a joke. I let out a relieved breathe, and giggle slightly, as though the atmosphere was suddenly replaced by helium.

Mum is laughing at me. "I guess you better pack a bag, and I'll see you tomorrow then" She said, smiling at me, I look up behind me, the warm brown eyes of Rowan are smiling down at me. I laugh gleefully, as he picks me up again, nuzzling me, before putting me down. "I'll get your bag" he mutters before walking off towards the stairs that lead to my room.

I look up at Mum, knowing very well that I am blushing furiously. I was stupid to believe I was in trouble; she would never get angry at me. She walks over to me, sweeping the hair out of my face, "You have fun tonight kiddo" All I can do is smile; it was a total surprise that Rowan just happened to turn up now. "I will." I say with an even broader grin, I look towards the stairwell, I can just hear him rustling around in my room, knowing that I'm in for a surprise when I get to his house.

My mother flicks my hair again, I turn to look at her, and I can see a proud smile on her face, slightly mischievous too. "Will you be fine here with just you and Dad?" I ask in a mocking tone, she raises her eye brows at me, "Of course, because it's just terrible to be left alone all night, with one's husband." She grins, and I laugh, Ogden is staying with his girlfriend tonight, and Blossom is with her friends, with me at Rowans house, that leaves the two of them home alone. I smile, she was always a great mother to me, we embrace in a hug, and she kisses my forehead. "You be careful with him," she mutters, as she walks upstairs, having finished with the washing up. I wander back into the television room, my father is sitting there, looking bored, as he watches the replay of tributes being called, he looks up as I walk over, I kiss him on the head and place a hand on his shoulder to look over him at the television.

I get bored shortly, and I can hear that Rowan is nearly finished ferreting around in my room, I look down at my father, "Goodnight Dad," I say as I kiss him goodbye. He looks up smiling, "Love you Cassie, be careful." He says, teasingly. I feel a little lighter inside, I walk out of the room just as they call a child's name, chances are, they will never go home, they will never get to feel this with their family, I feel sorry for them. But I am enlightened as I walk into the kitchen, Rowan has a bag in his hand, with what looks like a months' worth of clothes in it, my mother is smiling at him, I can tell she has been slipping snide comments to him as he worked on my bag. Rowan slings the bag over his shoulder, and takes my hand with the other. "See you two later. Love you Cassie, Be careful!" She calls out after us, as we start making our way out of the house. "Rowan, if you hurt her, I'll kill you" my mother threateningly calls after us; I can hear Rowan laughing under his breath. "Love you too!" I call back over my shoulder.

We walk out of the house and into the night.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N

If you read my work, it would be great if you faved, or reviewed, just to give feedback. This should be my average chapter length from now, about 1500-2000 words. I will try and make an even uploading time. I don't want to spoil you too much, but I don't want to keep you guys waiting. So I might put up two a week, at random times. Hope you enjoy this one, Bring your tissues.

Chapter Two.

I'm sitting on Rowan's bed, in his small room. It's only about ten minutes' walk from my own home, which is a rather small distance in district 7. Rowans house is further into the district, as my own home is hidden in the trees on the very outskirts of district 7. I left my parents alone for the evening, knowing they would be fine in each other company. After an interesting evening I'm now sitting in Rowans lap, on his bed, watching a movie, in the middle of the night.

"How was your day?" He asks politely, as he gently braids my hair, over and over again, all interest lost from the movie that is playing in the corner of the room. "Lovely, thank you" I whisper softly as I snuggle into him more, feeling his warmth, I can feel him smile, as I snuggle down. When he finishes doing my hair I add another comment, slightly snide, "I had a lovely surprise when I heard my mother screaming at me this evening while holding a frying pan, "I say teasingly, grinning at my own memories of the event. I turn to look at him, his brown eyes looking down at me, he wraps his strong arms around me, smiling in his own cute way, "I had to make up for not seeing you yesterday" he whispers in my ear, his hot breathe makes me shiver, it's so warm, it makes me feel loved. "You weren't the one who wasn't at school," I whisper, breathing on him deliberately, knowing the effect it has on him, he shivers just as I did, it makes me smile, I can tell he now knows that I know his plan. His grin becomes smug, and teasing, "Do explain to me then, why you weren't at school" He whispers the words, with his lips getting closer to my neck, shivers run through me again, and he wraps his arms around me a little tighter. "My mother needed me to take care of Blossom; she was helping Ogden with his house furbishing's, and little sisters can't take care of their own fevers." I whisper as I lean up and kiss his jawline, "Well," he looks down at me, caringly, "That makes two of us," he mutters "I was here with Willow, little sisters can't take care of their own fevers, can they?" he mutters softly into my hair.

I pull away to look at him, a quizzical look upon my face, "How did you know I wasn't at school then?" I ask teasingly. His smug expression is coming back, "A little birdy told me." He whispers, pulling me closer to him again, holding me to his warm breath. "Because little birds can talk and all…." I whisper sarcastically, as he readjusts himself to be hugging me closer. "It was a rather large bird, who can talk..." He mutters, running his fingers through my hair, pulling out the braid that h did only a few minutes ago.

"So you admit to having spies…" I whisper teasingly, poking him in the stomach, I can feel his muscles tense. "One spy, just one spy" he says squirming away from my finger, I glare at him. "And your spy is who?" I ask, with a mocking tone of seduction, Rowan laughs at me, looking down at me with a warming smile, he leans in closer to my ear. "If I told you, it would ruin the entire point of having a spy…" He whispers, breathing in my ear again. I turn and glare at him; he is just trying to make me squirm again. "It's Jasper again, isn't it? "I ask, knowing what happened last time he asked his little brother to follow me. It ended with his little brother accidentally falling into a river, while he followed me at work. He looked down at me smiling; I could tell by the mischievous look in his eye, that I was correct. I gawked at him, "You really trying that again? " I ask questioningly. He kissed my forehead, gently, hugging me into the depths of his arms; I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck, and the love flowing from his breathing. I held him closer, kissing his chin, pressing myself towards his warmth; this was the way I wanted to spend the rest of my life, happy and filled with love.

I awoke in his strong arms, Rowans arms, everything felt safe, secure and a little bit perfect. I felt his muscles stiffen as he woke, yawning slowly, looking out of his mess of brown hair, and peering curiously at me. I felt my face smile, of its own accord, there is no place I would rather be than now.

The morning light is shining in through Rowans window, making the room warm a filled with light; he lifts his hand and brushes it through my tousled hair, combing it free of any knots. He stiffens and sits up quickly, I'm confused and lying on his chest as he sits up, I spin my head as I hear a sharp tapping of knuckles against glass, I peer out the window, blinded momentarily by the light streaming through the window. I hear the frame shove up on its rust hangers and the scrapping of rough fabric as someone comes in through the window. It takes me a second to recognise them, the look different and the light is still blinding, it's Jasper. Shortly after his entrance there is a sharp tug of the bed clothes to cover Rowans half-nakedness from the cold streaming through the window, the morning air is fresh and biting. I am slightly confused as to why Jasper is standing in the middle of Rowan's room, especially at this time in the morning; my opinion has no time to voice before Rowan speaks up.

"What the hell are you doing in MY room" he growls, but Jasper doesn't reply, he looks a little out of breath, "You have your own God damned window" I can tell Rowan is angry, but something is wrong, Jasper looks panicky, his breathing is laboured and sharp, I look closer at him, before I get a good glance, a pillow is thrown at him, he falls to the floor as the pillow hits him, like an egg breaking when you hit it with a brick. I rush to his side, sliding quickly out of the bed, I kneel beside him, Rowan follows suit. He is on his knee's, at the foot of the bed, I can see him now, he is sobbing, "I tried to save them," he is covered in thick red blood, "but I couldn't" he gurgles out, words catching in his throat, he is covered in small deep cuts, "it was too strong" his eyes are wildly searching the room, words slurring further, He has a layer of soot covering him, blackening his clothes and skin, "There was nothing I could do" he has slightly burns, running along his arms, "they're just kept screaming!" he places his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the sound that is no longer here and rocks forwards on his knees, rocking himself as he sobs. I see it now; He is bloody, like death, sooty, like the fires of hell and crying, as though there is much pain. The last words he utter, scare me more than anything I have ever seen in my life, "They're dead." I stand, wavering slightly, immediately looking out the open window, and I see it, in the distance, I can see the small plume of smoke in the trees, rising up to heaven.

My legs carry me, before my mind knows what it wants to do; I am climbing out Rowans beaten window, in my thin nightgown, I grasp the tree, as I shimmy down it. I am excellent in trees, but I can tell my nerves were faltered, as I grazed both hands deeply, desperately trying to fall out of the large tree, which lead to Rowans second story window. I did not succeed. Both my hands felt like they were grated with a cheese grater, I landed heavily at the base of the tree, landing awkwardly on a jumble of roots beside Rowans house. My hands were bleeding furiously as I pushed myself off the wet ground, my head spinning slightly, I started running, pushing myself, I could feel my feet against the gravel, the crunching of my feet, sliding through the tiny stones, and Rowans feet trying to keep up with me. Before long my chest hurt, my skin was clamped and cold, the morning air feeling bitter and repugnant now. I ran, towards the pleats of smoke flying through the trees, my mind spinning faster than my legs were beating against the ground.

It takes five minutes of solid running, my chest heaving with effort, my diaphragm aching, as I break through the last scrape of trees; they pull at my tousled hair, the effort to take myself the last few steps until I reach the smouldering clearing are the most agonizing. My knees fall into the grass next to them, my vision blurring with tears.

Their bodies are red, hot; their arms locked around each others bodies. Their red skin is peeling and black, my mother's luscious hair is burnt, and blotched on her head, my chest heaves, I can't bring myself to touch their dead bodies, they look so peacefully, even in their agonizing death, I know they died in each others arm. I hear Rowan enter through the trees behind me, his footsteps stopping as he see's it all; his shocked gasp draws me to pull my head up off my knees. The sight of their bodies is making me shake; their blood is seeping out into the grass, drowning my nightgown in its red horror. My eyes blur, my parents dead bodies are lying on the footpath leading to my smouldering wreck of a house.

Rowan stood helplessly, next to the burning wreck of a house that was once mine, He watched as part of the roof fell into the wreck, leaving no distinguishable feature of the house remaining.

I reached out, my bloody hand, touching my mother's hand, her skin was no longer smooth, it was crumbly and tough, as though it had been licked by the flames of hell itself. I raised my hand weakly, touching my fathers hand, which had been rougher than mothers before, but now it was just wet and flaky, with the blood of hell spat all over it.

The last word either of my parents uttered to me, was "Cassie, Be careful", I laughed mockingly at the thought, this was really careful, my jerking laughter turned quickly into racking sobs. My entire body racked with sobs, my breathes heaving, my chest feeling as though it had been cleaved in half, with an axe of death, was letting my heart feel the heat, pain and suffering of this event. I knelt up, letting my hand rest on the burn remnants of my mothers beautiful brown hair, its blotchy remains crumbled and broke under my touch, I stared at the burning house, feeling my fingers combing roughly through her bloody curls. The sky gently spewed out a constant stream of ash, which looked like snow, making the hole inside my chest ache harder, the event was turning hazy in my already tear streaked eyes. I felt my body slip, knowing my heart would too, almost willing my heart to stop, so I would be away from this scene. I fell to be against my mother side, feeling the heat of the flames, and the dampness of the earth and blood of my family.

I could tell it was a shock; I was lying next to my parent's dead bodies, ash falling from the sky, in a pool of blood, knowing that life wasn't going to be the same any more.

And then everything was black.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter three.

The white rose, was placed gently against the pine lid, the dew drops glistening of the satin leaves, Rowan stepped back, and looking over his craftsmanship, with the wreath of roses was lying gracefully, in its final resting place. The coffin, covered in roses, held the remains of both my parents', all that could be salvaged from the bloody mess beside the fire. The crafted wooden coffin was made by Rowan, delicate roses inscribed in the wood, weaving into each other, painting pictures within the roses. Many wreaths lay in the grave, as my parents bodies was gently lowered into the ground, it was a saddening sight, my eyes were watery, but I could not break down now, I have to be strong.

It is tradition in district seven, one that I would up hold, that when someone dies, no matter how, you plant a fruit tree over the grave. So that each year, it will bare fruit to your family, keeping the memory alive, keeping your family strong. I smile sadly, as shovel, after shovel of dirt, falls onto the lid, placing a seal on their lives, forever gone.

Rowan has his strong arm around my waist, supporting my weight, as I stare silently, as the tree is placed in a newly dug hole, on either side of my parent's bodies. My mother has a greengage tree, a combination all things good, made into one sweet fruit, a tasteful tree to her life. My father gets an apple tree, fresh, crisp and good for you, everything he ever was to me. I smile silently, turning my head to look at who remains here, in the graveyard. The white chairs are in rows, in a place that looks like an orchard. The photo of my parents lies to my left, they are holding hands and kissing, it is sitting on the desk, where our chaplain sits quietly, his handkerchief well used, tears staining the front of his suit. He was a dear friend to my parents. Jasper, wearing a graceful black suit, sits at the back, on the left, holding Willow, who is crying gently into his chest, her little white dress pulled down over her legs, protecting her from the cold. My brother Ogden sits at the back, on the right, , wearing his formal clothes, tears streaming quietly down his face, His fiancée, Alyssa, sits next to him, holding his hand, her eyes are a subtly shade of red, her white dress plays host to Blossom. Blossom is lying across them, crying into Alyssa's lap, her own outfit, dirtied, having appeared to have fallen over today. We are all just one big mourning family, my parents were parents to Rowans family also; his parents relied on mine often. Rowans parents left a while ago, they seemed distraught.

I look back at Rowan, his brown eyes, deep; I can tell my family will never be the same. The pained look coming from him is knowledge enough to the fact I will have to do a lot. Ogden's house, is just upon completion, Blossom will have to go to school, with books, and clothes. We will have to feed ourselves. My fathers shop will need running, there are so many things to do, and my parents left us with little money, all out possessions gone in a puff of smoke.

I walk hand in hand with Rowan, towards his house. Blossom has been living in with Willow, at Rowans house. His parents, work hard, and have a large home, but I can feel it bursting at the seams with seven of us staying there. Ogden is living with his fiancée Alyssa, building their house during the day, so they will have somewhere to call their own. Each afternoon, I can feel it straining, as Rowans parent come home to try and make dinner. They smile, but I can tell it hurts, their family is struggling.

I walk hand in hand with my mother, her gentle eyes meeting mine. "If ever I die Cassie, Take care of the others." She says, stroking my hand softly with her thumb. "You do everything in your power to keep others safe, especially those you love." She whispers, letting go of my hand, as she slips away into the kitchen, my memory fades. My eyes are no longer filled with the lace covered table, the dusty furniture. But a workshop, covered in sawdust, my father places his hand on my shoulder. "Cassie, If I ever go away, I want you to come here, just to think of me, make a box in my memory, and put things in it, so you know that when you are down, there will always be a place to put your thoughts." He whispers soulfully, before taking his hand off and continuing his work.

It feels, almost as if they knew that the end was near, telling me everything I needed to know before departing. I shudder; their words sink me into my own mind, where I spend my next few days.

"Rowan?" I call into the bathroom, knocking sharply with my knuckles against the door, the sound rapping loudly. A few seconds later, his head is peering out, looking at me curiously, his dark, wet hair falling into his face, a puzzled expression quickly hidden. "I want to go and do something." I say, opening the door more, peering inside at him. His brown eyes, look pained, I know he has been expecting this. "I want to go to my fathers shop, make it into a home, and work there." I see the look in his eyes does not change. He places an arm around my waist. "Are you sure you're ready?" he asks curiously, knowing that the last time I saw my house I broke down. Ogden had to go and check the rubble for any remaining personal items, and it was just as hard for him.

My voice is weak, "Yes, I'm ready." With these words, Rowan takes my hand, and we start walking. The way to the shop is easy, follow Rowans street, work your way towards the centre of town, and so we do. Our feet patting quietly against the gravel road of district seven.

I reach the shop, our hands falling apart, his rough skin brushing my neck, comforting me. I look forward to the shop, blushing furiously, I see the shops front, the window is a little dusty, and a blind closed, so no-one can see what is inside. I examine the front, no paint is falling off, and everything looks pristine. I walk around to the back of the shop, my hand reaching into a small flowery bush, for the hidden key, finding it in its strange hiding place. I turn the lock, feeling the bolts shudder in the door; the rustic door locks clunk loudly as it springs open. I take a few cautious steps inside, hearing the door click shut behind me, as Rowan closes it. He flicks the light switch.

The room is basked in light, my dad's staff room, where he sits with mum and enjoys his time away from home. The room is only about 4 meters square; it has a table with two chairs next to it, both made by my father, flowers and trees are carved into the wooden backs. I walk through the door, into the next room; it is my dad's workshop, with a bench, separating it from the shop. It's a small thin room about 4X8 metres, and filled with wooden furniture. I can smell my father in his shop; it's calming, yet makes a shiver run over me, knowing that he is gone.

I move my father's table, into his workshop, placing it next to the assortment of benches. I struggle with the bed, Rowan watching helplessly from behind a desk, in which he is stuck. He lifts himself up, out of the crevice, with his arms, sitting on the desk, swinging his legs around the desk, so he is sitting behind me, watching. I try lifting the bed again, showing him how helpless I am, with a large piece of wooden furniture. He laughs gently, seeing through my weak façade, poking me in the back, as I try again. This time I pick up the heavy wooden bed, he stands, helping me manoeuvre it to the staff room. I place it where the desk used to be, sitting it in the dusting silhouette that was left.

I run my fingers over the linen on the bed; it was used for the window display, there is a pull out mattress underneath this one. Almost as if Dad wanted us to have it, because both beds are made, with pillows and linen that matches our old family sets.

The thought of dad doing this for Blossom and I, makes me cry, I suddenly can steady myself, letting my legs fall out from under me, I fall lightly onto the bed. Rowan sits beside me, pulling me to be leaning against his shoulder, warmth from his chest leaking into my face. I cry quietly for a few minutes, silent tears streaming down my face. Rowan pulled his gentle arms around me, holding me for an embrace, kissing my forehead gently. I look up, my teary eyes, reflecting out of Rowans big eyes, "I'm going to have to live here." I say gently, blinking a few times. His eyes are sorry, "Was I that bad in bed?" he asked quietly joking, I laughed lightly. "No, but I can tell your parents are worried. " I mutter, pressing a kiss to his chin, I work my way up until I am kissing his nose. "They might get the wrong idea," I whisper, kissing his neck. I feel his chest move as he laughs gently, looking down at me with his eyes, that shine only with love. "You mean, they would think, the exact same thing that is happening?" he asks innocently, kissing the tip of my nose, the tip of his tongue, touching my nose playfully. I wrap my arms around him, knowing that whenever I am sad, he will be here for me, it makes me feel complete, even with a gaping hole, left by my parents, in my heart. I hold him closer, willing him to stay forever.

Rowan mutters something that I quickly silence with a passionate kiss, entwining my fingers with his. He raises his other arm, shifting his body slightly, keeping our lips locked; he pulls my legs onto the bed, running his hand gently up my thigh.

It all feels hot and passionate. Like a fire, burning away the troubles of life, like it did for my parents, taking every trouble away.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter four.

Blossom grabbed my hand, scared. I pushed open the door. Rowan and I had been busy, everything is way different now. Blossom squeaked excitedly. The walls of my father's staffroom were now a forest green, the beds were made, a small ornate box lay on the lower bed, and she rushed over to it. The rosewood had little flowers carved into it. Rowan had done a great job on the little box; really, we had been quite busy that afternoon. Ogden had added the best piece to the room though; the small excited squeak spoke for itself, Blossom was hugging my stomach, a gold pendant in her hand. Ogden had retrieved it from the wreck of a house; I could see his smug expression from the corner of my eye.

Ogden walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder, he leaned down to my ear, "You enjoy it, because you deserve it." He whispered to me, I smiled, as he pulled away. We walked over to where Blossom was intently showing Rowan her necklace, I smiled, they get along so well. "See you three later." He muttered, running his fingers over Blossom's head, he turns to me, "Be careful Cassie" he whispers, before leaving through the back door, of my new home, my father's shop.

I take Rowans hand as we walk through into the shop side of the building. Blossom, is a very quiet girl, who doesn't talk much, to anyone, but loves writing, so we left her alone, with a piece of paper and a pen.

"Blossom looked so happy." Rowan said proudly, sitting on the table next to me. The room was light, the front curtain open, allowing customers to come in, at will. But it was a quiet time now; I looked off into space, forgetting that Rowan had talked. "How are you going to pay for food?" he asked quietly, catching my attention. I looked into his eyes, "I'll get a job." I say quickly. Rowan raises his eyebrows, "You lost your job Cassie, no-one is hiring right now" mutters Rowan. He takes my hand, stroking it gently, "My family will help you." he whispers, kissing the back of my hand.

My eyes are suddenly hot; I overheard a conversation in Rowans house, a few days ago, his parents were talking about food.

*** "They need our help." His mother hissed. "So do we put terrasse on Jasper or Rowans head?" his father hissed back. I closed the door quietly, coming back to reality. ***

I'm suddenly crying, hot tears streaming down my face. "How many times is your name in that bowl?" I say, scared, knowing his family inherited the big house, and that his parents work very hard for everything they have. Rowan placed his arm around my shoulder, "It doesn't matter, I only have one year left in the bowl." My eyes blurred with anger, I pushed his arm of me, turning to face him. "How many times Rowan?" I demanded. He has a pained look in his eyes, "Tell me Jaspers too." I add, knowing he doesn't want to share, but desperate to know wether he is safe. There are tears in his eyes now, his lip wobbles gently, he is going to try and cry his way out, but I am still angry. "I am in the bowl about 30 times" he mutters, my heart falls, "Jasper is in about 20 or so times" tears now streaming from his eyes. I pull him into a hug, feeling him cry. I am only in the bowl 5 times, and Blossom is in once. "I guess it is my turn to keep this family alive. You have taken too much on your head." I say proudly, voice wavering slightly, Rowan hugs me closer to his chest, crying quietly into my hair.

I pull back a little from his hug. "You can't sacrifice yourself to save me forever Rowan, there is only a chance you will go in." I whisper, he looks down at me with his large brown eyes, tears accumulating in them. "I would rather die than live in a world without you." He says, tears spilling over his cheeks now.

I hug him closer, knowing that I have to put my name down and bring the family food, rather than letting him do it. I hold his hand, stroking my fingers across it gently.

"What if there was an alternative, to putting our names down for terrasse?" he asked, obviously seeing my plan to put my name down on the list of death. "Like growing vegetables, that take months and need resources to grow?" I ask sarcastically, I laugh lightly. Rowan is serious though; he takes my hand and drags me from the room. Taking me to be a part of his idiotic plan.

I am half way up a tree, my legs gripping the trunk closely. Rowan was in the tree behind me, holding on for his dear life. Rowan has no experience in trees, I would seriously worry about him, if her were ever put into the Hunger Games, mainly because of his lack of ability when it comes to weapons, showed when he tried to throw a knife at a deer, and almost killed himself. I am however much better at this than him, a knife gripped between my teeth, and I shimmy up the trunk of the tree.

I spot what I came here for. There is a small bird, sitting on the branch, at my chest height. I pull the small knife from my clamped jaw, hugging the tree tightly with my thighs, releasing my hands from the trunk and raising them. My vision zones in on the bird, blue and fluffy, preening its feathers.

I flick my wrist quickly, the sharp knife flying in almost slow motion as it hits the bird. A puff of feathers fall off the bird, as it drops like a stone, to the forest floor about 20 meters below. A few blue feathers fly wispily through the wind, away from the spot of my kill.

"Can I come down now?" yells Rowan, looking paler by the second. I turn and nod, almost thinking that I should race him down, but knowing that he would probably fall miserably into the river or something. I make my move down, swing from branch to branch, moving gracefully like an animal that has always belonged here.

I was about three times higher in the tree than Rowan, but I reach the ground before him, landing lightly on my feet at the bottom. I walk over to the base of Rowans tree; he is hanging, by his arms, about 4 metres off the ground. He jumps, slipping on the wet roots as he lands, instinctively he grabs out to me, bringing me to the ground on top of him. He is grinning, though out of breath.

I raise my eyebrows at him, as he holds me to him, while lying together on the forest floor. "Yes?" I ask curiously, as he refuses to let me up, he turns his head to the side, looking next to him, seeing the puff of a bird next to him; it is about the size of a chicken, although it has a knife imbedded in its bloody carcase. I smile, staring at it; I have better aim than I thought I did. I stare across to the side. Rowan looks up at me, I feel his body move, and I look down to meet his eyes. A hot wet kiss is planted on my lips, his tongue curiously touching my lips. He pulls back; I look a little bit stunned. "You have a great aim." He whispers, I silence him from saying anything else, by placing a quick kiss on his nose. I'm tired of this; I try to get up again, pushing against Rowan. He holds tighter, a smug expression on his face. "Let me up" I say, growling a little in my voice. "No" he whispers, adding a tone of seduction into his words.

He rolls me over to be on top, I struggle to get away. Knowing that it is useless, I make sure I am comfortable, wiggling round in the roots. Rowan is hot against me, kissing passionately against my skin. The touch of his lips makes a shiver run across me, my heart beating louder in my ears; it all feels so good and gentle.

I kiss him back; paying him back for everything he has ever given me, each kiss a symbol of my love to him. "We should do this more often" I whisper, growing breathless, Rowan laughs, as he brings his tender kisses down my neck. "The foraging or the feast?" he asks, knowing how much food we collected today, if I mean that, or if I metaphorically mean the feast that is about to undergo. I laugh at him, because he knows that answer to his own question. I bring our lips back together, as we embrace.

My family has been living on the little food that the Estelle family provides, it feels good to be able to finally start paying them back. We collected more than we could ever eat in a few days. I know this is my way out, stopping myself and my sister going hungry forever, even if it does take some time grow used to methods of hunting. I also feel like the bonding time with Rowan will help us, to know that we do everything in our way to make sure the other is ready for anything. Even if it ends like this.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N

I am really sorry this chapter has taken so long, I've been away. I promise over the next few days I will get a few more chapters done. I would also like to congratulate anyone who gets the names of the tributes, and realises all of my bad puns. You too are amazing.

Enjoy. J

Chapter five.

My family has been well fed. I have noticed that mysterious grain and meat rations have stopped coming. The terrasse has halted. The last has been paid to us, and we will hopefully never get those packages again. We have no debt to the Capitol, and them, none to us. A little burden is lifted off my chest, knowing that I have no debt to the capitol.

It has been five months, three weeks and two days since my parent's hideous deaths, the memory still fresh as day, yet the horror falling away. I stand in my room that I share with Blossom finishing the last piece of bread from my breakfast, munching slowly on the grains. Food has been plentiful recently, nothing has been too hard. We have been keeping my Fathers shop open, Rowan is in the front of the shop, talking to a customer about their custom made chair, I can hear the admiration in their voice, about the intricate details on the piece of furniture. I carved it, with Rowan, last night, after Blossom had gone to stay with Willow. That left the two of us alone to carve furniture, and "make out" the intricate details onto the chair, I smiled lightly. We carved little flowers and snakes into the pine, delicately weaving them together.

I pull on my dress; it is short, and green to match my eyes, hugging my figure til my waist, where it flares out, to hang about four inches above my knee. I like it, Rowan got it for me many years ago, as a present when we first started dating. I hear the jingle of a bell as the customer leaves the shop, taking his chair with him. I can tell Rowan will join me soon. I hurriedly do up the zip, not wanting to lead him on, especially when we have somewhere to be.

There is a light tapping on the door, Rowan enters afterwards, closing the door behind him, and I see his face crack into a smile when he sees the dress I'm wearing. He brings his arm around my waist and kisses my head gently. My hair delicately held back with pins, showing my delicate neck, and the figure of the dress nicely.

"You looks beautiful Cassia Green." He whispers, turning me around to face him. I kiss him on the cheek, "You too look desirable in your white shirt and black trousers." I say, holding him close to me. I feel the warmth of his body as he hugs me; it makes my heart smile a little. We embrace for several moments, holding each other close. It is reaping morning after all.

I take his hand, leading him over to the bed, pushing him so he is sitting down, before sitting on his lap; I make myself comfy as he leans against the wall. "If I go today, I want you to have everything I own. Everything but one item, that you can't have once I'm dead." I say, stroking his face gently. "If I go today, I want you to know that I will come back for you, even if I only get to come to you from heaven." He says. "Because you are such and angel already." I mutter, pushing some hair out of his eyes, "I must mention the only thing you can't have, is my heart, because it already belongs to you." I say, kissing his head. He smiles, stroking my face with the back of his hand.

"Let's go." He says, picking me up, so he can stand up, before placing me down again, holding my hand and leading me out the door. We walk hand in hand down the path leading from the shop. Walking to towards the crowd of people who congregate to watch the reaping. I held Rowan close to me as we walked, knowing in my heart that nothing could go wrong with us. Not even the games could keep us apart, we would win, just so we could see the others face, one last time.

Imelda stood, her delicately painted face pulled into a gruesome smile, showing white teeth neatly arranged in her mouth, she wore bright acid green clothes, capitol clothes. "May the odds be ever in your favour." She whispered into the microphone, before dipping her hand into a giant, ornate glass bowl.

"Ladies first" she whispers, opening the piece of yellow card. Pulling it over to her face, looking at the name written on it. She cleared her throat loudly before reading the name off the piece of card.

"Cassia Green" She read, looking out across the sea of people, she raised the piece of yellow card, up above her head, peering out across the crowds of people. There was nothing but silence for a few seconds, her eyes scanning for the first motion.

The first shout came from a man, in the second sector of people; he was standing in the front row. The man fell to his knees, bellows turned quickly to sobs, and he scrapped himself off the floor. The girl standing directly across the isle took one step forward. "Cassia Green." Imelda read again loudly. The entire district was staring at the girl, her hands rising to cover her mouth, tears streaming down her face. The man took several steps across the walkway towards her, wrapping his arms around her. Crying into each others shoulders, they hold each other for about a minute before the peacekeepers pull her away from his clutching arms, another younger boy, comes and holds his brother, the district watches silently as the peacekeepers drag the girl up the stairs, she stands on the stage sobbing quietly.

"Congratulations!" Imelda said in her sing-song capitol voice, "The odds are in your favour!" she said to the sobbing girl, before turning to face the audience.

"Now for the Boys." She whispered dramatically. The tension was growing in the air of district seven, they all knew that Cassie was well loved by Rowan, and his crying would only stop if he too was greeted by death. The air felt stale and cold, as she dipped her hand into the bowl to draw out a male tribute.

"Rowan Estelle" her voice was heard clearly, though an audible gasp was heard from the entire district. The man, who had broken down, when Cassia was called, shook violently. The entire district stared at him, as two peacekeepers walked up to his sobbing body, dragging him by the arms to the stage.

He composed himself, his eyes still red, as he walked up the stairs onto the stage. The entire district dropped their heads, to be looking at the floor, out of respect, knowing that two lovers had been reaped together. Imelda seemed delighted. "What a lovely couple." she said excitedly pointing to both of the tributes. "But I must ask the district, are there any volunteers?" She said peering into the crowd, wiggling her fingers excitedly.

The entire district kept their heads down, a few moments of silence passed.

He took a step forward, a boy with short dark brown hair, a straight jawline, and a thick body. He held his head up and drew a single breath. "I volunteer." He said firmly. Imelda squeaked happily.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! We have a volunteer! Congratulations!" she yelled happily, gesturing wildly. "Come on up" she said encouragingly to the boy, he marched towards the stairs, jumping them two at a time, standing on the stage next to her with a grim expression. The boy, Rowan, stepped to the side, as the other boy took his place.

"What is your name?" Imelda asked gleefully, leaning in close to him.

"Lindon" he whispered, "Lindon Swan" he said a little louder, raising his chin to ignore her excited squeaking.

"Well, District Seven. These are your two victors!" She said excitedly, turning to face them. "Shake hands" she hissed, watching as the tall, brown haired girl Cassia, gently shook hands with the taller, older boy. The discarded tribute Rowan, standing awkwardly in the corner.

The peacekeepers pushed the two tributes through the door, into separate rooms, leaving them be for a few minutes before allowing them any time to talk to their loved ones.

Imelda stood on the stage still, the two glass bowls stood beside her. She gestured to the district; every one of them had their head down. "People of District seven, you now have seen your two victors! Viewing of the Hunger games will be compulsory this year, you may now all leave." She said with a tone of authority before walking through the giant doors of the Peace Building, following the tributes way in.

Rowan stood still on the stage, everyone was leaving, and no-one cared enough to take her from the competition. They would remove a man from a competition, in which he would have to kill his lover, but they would then not remove his lover. Leaving her in the competition to die at the hand of some one else.

Life is a sick joke.

"Welcome citizens of Panem.

Today is the first day of the Hunger Games, where we see our tributes being reaped. We got to know a little about each of them from seeing them in their district." The man Caesar had bright orange hair, pulled back. He was commentating the Hunger Games this year.

"And so we are going to meet the Tributes for the 24th annual Hunger Games!"

"From District One! We have two volunteers; the district of Luxury offers us... A girl, Regina King, who is 17 and looks like a fighter. The boy is Osric Cash, who is also 17. This will be a tough fight.

From district two, the district of Masonry, we have… Nardo Toweresa, a 17 year old boy and Treasa Walle, a 15 year old girl, as our tributes.

District three, the district of technology; Dirk Sharpe, who is 15, and Nova Wan, who is also 15, representing their district in this year's game.

District four, the district of fishing; we have Adrian Rodd, who is 14 and Maris Scea, who is 15. Quite an interesting mix for a career district.

District five, the district of Power; we have Kiran Singh, who is 17, and a young female tribute Aurora Gordon, who is only 13 years old.

District six, the district of Transport; we have Akena Bwana, who is 16 years old, and a volunteer for a little sibling, the beautifully courageous, Marcella Bryan, who is 17 years old.

District seven, the district of lumber, and interesting district, with two lovers reaped, and one volunteered out. So we have Lindon Swan who is 17, and Cassia Green, who is 16.

District eight, the district of Textiles; we have Calico White, who is only 14 and his district partner Dimity Large, who is only 12 years old, one of our youngest tributes this year.

District nine, the district of Grain; we have a brave young man Caraway Drupe, who is 14, and his partner, Aluma Tribble of 15.

District ten, the district of livestock; we have Pan Midas, who is 16, and his district partner Garna Sheed, who is our oldest tribute at the age of 18.

District eleven, the district of Agriculture; we have Omri Tutt, who is fifteen, and his district partner Iris Rainbow, who is also one of the youngest competitors at the age of only 12.

And finally District twelve, the district of mining. Flint Clwyd, who is 13, and Galena storm, who is a 14 year old tribute."

"These are these years' tributes ladies and Gentlemen! It is a very interesting mix, and we will see them all again tomorrow evening, for the Tribute parade. Tune in then! Goodnight"

The screen no longer showed Caesar's face, but the capitol symbol that would not move until the tributes are being parade tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N this has been a difficult chapter to write, few warnings of violence in it. I will try to get back into my rhythm and finish a few chapters before I go away again. There is a perspective change in the story, so if you find any *** then it means something is changing, (Just so you don't get confused)

Quite a long chapter this one too, surprise at how quickly it grew, took forever to start.

Chapter six.

I peer at myself in the mirror, tear streaked face and red eyes show how terrible my day has been. I am locked in the Peace Building, in a small room, that contains nothing but furniture, carved from a golden wood. There is a small window; I meander gently over to it, wiping my streak streaked face with my arm. The window does not show the district, unlike I hoped, but it shows a courtyard containing a small bush-like tree, with small red berries hanging off the side.

I compose myself and walk away from the window, towards the door. I recognise the bush, but cannot remember the name of it; my head is spinning as I wait by the door. We are meant to have visitors to say goodbye to us, my heart is tearing apart to wonder who would come and say goodbye to me.

The door opens; a peacekeeper pushes them through the door. Jasper stubbles through the door, Blossom is holding tightly onto his hand, the blood draining from it. Willow is clutched onto Blossoms other hand, tears gently streaming down her innocent face.

He pulls me into a gruff hug, Blossom latching around my waist almost instantly after Jasper does. Willow releases Blossom's hand, standing silently behind us. Jasper pulls back from his embrace, tears streaming down his handsome face; his red eyes tell me that this will hurt him just as much as it will hurt Rowan and me. "Your my oldest friend, you know that right?" he asks, taking my hand, his own shaking as tears start streaming faster down his face. I couldn't stand it much longer, so I pulled him into a hug, trying to hold myself together, I fear that I may be one of Jasper's only friends.

"You have always been a dear friend to me as well." I say over his shoulder, my face now wet with tears. He gently pushes me back with his hands, as to look at my face. I see Jasper's eyes flick briefly down to my little sister; she is quietly standing next to me, tears drawn to her eyes also. I know I have to say my final goodbye to her; she will never grow up with a big sister now, my heart falls as I look into her delicate eyes. The chance of me coming back to see her another time are so slim that I could count them on the teeth of hens, I kneel down and throw my arms around her. Her hysterical cries make my heart feel as though a bunch of birds have started taking tiny little chunks, ripping and tearing to try and get their own little piece, I can tell there will be little left soon.

"You stay safe, be good." I whisper gently, brushing her smooth hair out of her teary eyes. She nods gently, before stepping back and hugging Willow, who is now also crying, tears spilling onto each others shirts. I stand up to my full height, looking into Jaspers eyes, seeing the pain her is dealing with, tears up my heart a tiny bit more.

"Don't let him do anything stupid." I whisper to Japer, I see a small smile break onto his lips. He nods gently. "Don't let yourself do anything stupid either." I say, with a mocking tone of authority, his face cracks into a joking smile, he laughs gently, before taking another step towards me, as to take up some of the distance between us.

"Don't you do anything stupid either." He whispers to me, brushing some hair off my face, the door handle moves down slowly, I know the time has come. "Look after them Jasper, Be what I can't be anymore." I say gently, watching him take in the information, the door slowly eases open, "Be careful Cassie." He whispers, the peace keeper walks through the door, I see Jasper lock eyes with mine, as they start to push my best friend out of the room. My little sister and Willow walk before him.

"Be strong Jas; don't let them taunt you with what happens to me." I yell as he is out of the room, to the closed door. The golden wood just stares at me, taunting me, with the knowledge that everything it will soon be over. I wipe the tears from my eyes, in reality; most people have their friends, then their parents, and then the people who are closest to their hearts come and say goodbye. I sniffle back the last few tears, knowing that my parents will never get to say goodbye to me, and the last words they ever said to me, is still haunting me.

"Love you Cassie, Be careful!" She calls out after us, as we start making our way out of the house. "Rowan, if you hurt her, I'll kill you" my mother threateningly calls after us; I can hear Rowan laughing under his breath. "Love you too!" I call back over my shoulder.

My mind races over the event. Be careful. Yes Cassia Green is careful, but it does nothing for you, my heart has been broken, torn apart, burnt by the depths of hell, and those two words "Be careful" help no more than any other thing in this pitiful life. It hits me, like a brick in the face. My mother's last words to me were the two merciless words I despise. My father's two last words to me were also the words of hell, which were later dipped in his own blood, and shoved in my face. Now, when I am leaving to my own horrid death, Jasper chooses the same two words to use.

I swear to myself, if Ogden says those two words to me, I will kill him myself, because I am sure that there is something cursed about the words.

The door instantly swings open, the golden wood crashing to its hinges, screaming in agony it crashes open. His green eyes are wild, flicking quickly around the rooms, his brown hair, falling untidily, manic on his head. His hands reach me, tears streaming down his cheeks; his face is as red as blood. His hands are wet; I look down, my head swooning at the sight.

Rowan is sobbing as I drag him to the couch, he is covered in a sickly red liquid, and I can only imagine it being the blood of someone innocent. But by the choked, strangled noises coming from his mouth, I know Rowan did not do this.

"He tried to kill them, with his bare hands…" his words are rushed and scared. "He yelled that it wasn't fair, that the capitol wanted to deliberately harm us." He said, shaking and crying, I hold his hands gently, stroking the blood off them, knowing I don't want to hear who it is that died.

"They shot him, I couldn't save him, the blood was too much, as I stood up, and they raised their guns to me." He is shaking. "I ran, leaving his body in the street." His wild eyes scare me.

"I ran straight here, but your sister saw it all, as did Willow and Jasper." He is violently sobbing now, trying to draw himself to composure. I know that Ogden will soon be in a wooden box, going into the unforgiving ground, and I will be following him soon after. The last words Ogden said to me, were months ago, in my father old shop. "Be careful Cassie." I almost feel like laughing, to mock whatever had decided to ruin my life for me.

He looks up, red face, shining, covered in blood. His eyes coming down to their normal speed, the green shining out of the red on his face, highlighting his eyes. He opens his mouth slightly, but no words come out, so I started talking for him. "Take care of them, Jas, Blossom and Willow. Don't let them go without love." I whisper

Rowan looks up at me, his green eyes searching my face for something. He leans forwards to me, his red lips locking onto mine, gently brushing against my own lips, his gently kiss takes me by surprise, how love can come at such a terrible moment. His tender lips come and kiss me on my cheek again, brushing his lips across the plane of my face before pulling away and looking at me again. Whatever his eyes were searching for before, is now gone, his eyes are filled with a different, happier look.

A small smile etches itself across his face. "I will do everything I can, to never forget how much I love you." He says gently. "Don't forget how much I love you too." I whisper, stroking his hair gently. We stand; his firm arms hold me tightly, hugging the warmth of his love into my heart. He warm lips graze gently across my head.

"Promise me, we will see each other again Cassie." He whispers, holding me closer than ever, I step back, so I am only holding his hand. I nod, knowing that I would do anything to come back to him, to feel the love I once felt.

"Cassie…" he whispers, "Try to win." He says quietly, walking gently towards the door, he turns the door handle, the latch unclicking slightly, "and be careful…" he whispers, the golden door closing, as a sign that everything will close. In time I feel there will be nothing left of me, as each goodbye has ripped a hole in my heart. Rowans panic, his blood covered hands, his green eyes shining out through the sickly red.

My knees find the floor, my head spinning in my hands, suddenly everything I see is a sickly shade of red, the golden door feels like the gate of heaven, but I am not allowed to pass through it. So I am greeted by the knowledge that a life of misery is all that is left.

I can see it now.

I stand on the stage, as every man, woman and child leaves the crowded space, to celebrate the life of their family, something I will not do again. I stand, legs shaking, my hands held loosely at my sides, only a few remain here, Jasper is holding Blossoms hand, he walks shakily towards, His normally warms arms are of no comfort, they feel empty as he embraces me, like my heart. Willow follows behind them, as the giant doors of the peace building open, engulfing my brother, and my little sister and her friend. The wooden doors hold onto my love, holding her away from me.

My parents stand silently in their section, unmoving, tears streaming down their face, their heads lowered in respect for the soon-to-be- dead. I feel disgusted that they already consider her dead, though my heart burns to admit it, they are right; Cassia Green will not live out the month.

He runs up from the crowd, now leaving the mouth of the square. He is taller than I am, with dark brown hair, a sharper beauty than Cassie's. Ogden reaches me, panting for breath; he places a hand on my shoulder, nodding at something in his mind, before setting off again.

He brings himself to his full height, showing just how large he is, we walks towards the door of the peace building. My stomach flailing inside me, scared.

He brings his hand up as he reaches them, two peacekeepers, one on either side of the door. His strong fingers grab the peace keeper's neck, his nails digging in and drawing a feint trickle of blood down his neck, it all happens so quickly, his nails trying to drag out the mans throat, pulling and ripping at the neck of an innocent man.

He has the peace keeper at his knees, as the other peacekeeper tries to beat Ogden with the butt of his gun. Ogden's eyes are wild; their normal colour amplified by the red of blood on is hands, the first peace keepers throat is hanging on my a thread, the life draining out of him as he struggles to gasp breath, several peace keepers run to the scene, their white outfits looking out of place in the sea of red from the first peacekeeper.

The second peacekeeper is trying to wrestle Ogden to the floor, their limbs tangled together, but what he has done to the first can not be undone. Three more peace keepers dive upon him; I am frozen in shock as I watch.

They raise him, so he is standing, his sharp face covered in blood. The dead peace keeper's body lying on the ground, leaking all of its sickly red life onto the floor. His fine clothes are covered in the red blood, the hold him still, a peace keeper on either side of him, the other standing back at a distance, unsure.

"Your capitol has taken the life of everyone I love." He says firmly, eyes leading their way up to stare at the peace keeper, who leads everything in this district. Ogden continues, his voice rising, "You think I didn't notice, the capitols bomb in my old home?" he is almost yelling now. "You KILLED my parents, my sister then reaped within months! You expect me to sit around when the capitol is deliberately trying to kill my family!" he is yelling at the top of his lungs, shaking with rage, he struggles against the two restraints.

The peace keeper who is standing in front of him, slowly and meaningfully draws his gun. My stomach falls at the thought. The struggles, before falling still, his wild eyes shining through the blood of hell.

"Your Capitol is trying to kill us." He whispers, knowing the effect he is having, people are peering through the crowd, back at us. The golden door of the Peace Building opens; I don't look to see who, because Ogden is drawing breath again. "I am not a part of your games." He yells his voice stops instantly afterwards, a single gunshot is sounded; I can not draw my eyes away.

They drop him, his knees crumbling to the already bloody pavement. The two peacekeepers walk over to the rest, leaving Ogden's body lying in the pool of blood.

My legs carry me before I allow them; I run the few paces to his body, falling to my knees in front of his body, the blood already seeping into the concrete. His bloody head, nothing but a mush of bone and brains. I feel physically sick, my stomach heaving, I push myself off the ground, knowing that there is nothing I can do for him, he is already far gone.

As I raise myself of the ground, the head peacekeeper turns to glare at me, obviously thinking I will try the same thing that Ogden did. He raises the sterile white gun; small flecks of blood are on the barrel. The barrel bears down to me, my eyes widen, I can see him flick over the safety catch. I am as good as dead within a few seconds.

I turn to heel and run straight for the golden door, towards Cassie, knowing my time for a goodbye is limited. I hurl straight into Jasper, who is standing at the door, his mouth open, eyes red, holding onto our little sisters hand. I know just from the look on his face, he just saw everything that I did.

I run towards the door at the end of the corridor, knowing who is behind it. I slam into it, pushing myself through, until I finally see her face.

I am on my knees next to the door. The images of what could have happened flash before my eyes, to think of my little sister, Jas and Willow seeing my brother lying dead is chilling. I think of how much blood is spilt of the pavement in front of the Peace building, Rowans terror as they went to try and shoot him.

I lay on the ground next tot the golden door, thinking of just how unfair life has been to me, but to others as well. The capitol may rule over everything, but we are our own people, our own hearts, yet we only beat under the rule of the iron fist of Panem.

Many minutes pass, my mind held in a stupor, not really caring about myself, then I hear it. Beating footsteps, many sets, I hear their thunder against the wood, yells of anger cry out in the rush.

I sit up, bolt upright. I press my ear to the door, the running is thundering quickly my way. "Noooo!" I hear the familiar scream of anger coming from Rowans mouth through the door. The running continues, I feel weight slam into the heavy golden doors, they slide down the wood to the floor, I hear the whimpering from the other side, a woman's and a mans, "please…." I hear Rowan plead.

"Please don't…." I hear his gently words pleading, though a tear strained voice on the other side of the door.

Two single shots ring out in my head, the noise is deafening. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire district heard the two shots, from the other side of the door I hear nothing, but a small squeaking noise, of a body sliding off the door, onto the floor.

I pull my ear off the door, hurriedly shuffling away from the door; a small pool of blood is accumulating, leaking under the golden doors, showing me the true sign of death.

I push myself up, off the floor, standing so quickly that blood rushes out of my brain. I stumble backwards, tripping over everything, hurrying away from the growing pool of thick, sickly red liquid. I feel myself fall, the world blacking out slightly.

I remember the last two words ever said to me by Rowan, Ogden, my Mother and my Father, were the cursed words, 'Be Careful' I can not even bring myself to laugh bitterly at the thought. I just can't control my body; I lie in a stupor, trapped inside my own head, thinking of Rowans dead body on the other side of the door.

Two peace keepers walk through the golden doors, pulling me to my feet, half carrying, half dragging me to the door. They open it; I become hysterical as they drag me though the pool of blood on the floor, on the other side of the door. I can't help but stare at the deep red, staining onto the delicately crafted tiles and carpet, ruining them forever, and tearing what little is left of my heart into its last tiny pieces.

I am in a daze as they push me into the train, tears streaming down my face, my mind wasn't even conscious enough to remember how I got here. The two peacekeepers drop me on the floor of the train, as they disembark, the other tribute steps gingerly on, followed by Imelda.

Their eyes meet mine, Imelda looks disgusted at me, and I feel disgusted at the world, so it's a mutual feeling. I stare at myself, sitting, fallen on the floor, there are specks of blood on me already, staining the white shaggy carpet, ruining the delicate theme of the décor, the white crystals and white walls don't work if there is a stain of blood on the carpet, I have ruined one thing for the capitol.

His gentle arms lift me up, placing me onto the couch, its soft white fabric takes me away rom my world of red and black. Death and blood leak from my mind as I drift off to sleep on the couch.

Sleeps brings on my two least favourite words instead of death. Be careful. My mind devours the words, trying to find meaning in them. Being careful killed everyone closest to me. I pray that it doesn't kill anyone more. Being careful is the greatest way to die, so I have made up my mind.

Cassia Green will not be careful, because that's now you die.

A deep, dark lulling of tranquil sleep takes me, I accept its warm grasp and let myself slip away from the real world for a while. Willing that everything will be gone, and everything will leave me to stay in this slumber for the rest of my life, because, the darkness is quite fine.

So I choose darkness, recklessness as my way to stay alive. Being careful is no longer a way to live.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N Trying to make my chapters longer now, not sure how long it will keep up though.

I have done a drawing of her tribute parade dress (description featured in the chapter), and if people would like to see it, tell me and I will put it on . =D

Chapter seven.

His gentle hands shake my arm softly, his firm grasp draws me into reality, I have no idea how much time has passed since I drifted from this world. I almost scream, when my eyes flutter open, the blinding white light of morning silhouette him, his dark curly hair, green eyes and playful smile make my heart stop. I could swear I was just shaken awake by Rowan, the distant memory of his warm hands chill me to the bone.

He stands up, brushing off his clothes, before looking down to see if I'm awake. He see's that I am conscious, before allowing a playful smile shine across his lips. He lowers his hand, offering it to me, as to help me up. I take it gingerly, he gasps a little firmer than expect, hoisting me to my feet. My head spins slightly, as I gain the knowledge of where I am. The room is white, tables, carpet, walls; everything is white with crystals embedded in it. I see a few specks of red, on the couch, and the floor, forcing me to remember the previous day. Tears are struggling to escape out my eyes, yet I force them back, I must be strong from now.

I realise he is staring at me, his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion, I remember that is has been several long moments of me standing, staring at the white wall. I shake my head, clearing out the confusion. I turn to face him, he smooths out his face, smiling gently again. "Would you like to change out of your clothes?" he asks kindly, I blush slightly, looking down to see what I am wearing, it is a beautiful green dress, speckled with red. I shake my head in reply; this dress mean a lot to me, knowing it was a last gift from a loved one.

He looks at me, trying to pry a reason from me; I just shake my head again as he leads me to the table. I sit across from him, food appears before me, and I don't feel like I want to eat anything, so I sit there silently. He starts eating a bowl of stew, I watch him closely, I recognise him from somewhere, I can't put my finger on it.

After about five minutes he notices my staring, he puts down his fork, looking patiently up at me. "I'm Lindon." He says, thoughtfully staring in my direction, "Cassia" I whisper in his direction, looking down at the crisp white plate.

He continued looking at me thoughtfully for a few minutes, you could feel the thoughts clouding the air, but I think he finally decided on a question to ask, he opened his mouth, "What were you covered in blood?" he asked gently. My heart stops, it is not the types of question a feel like answering, the exact question I don't want to answer, yet his gentle eyes bore into me, cutting away at my will not to break down.

I wait a moment, thinking of the correct answer "My brother was shot." I whisper, I can tell this was not the answer he wanted. He looked more than ever confused at me, the quizzical look made me uncertain. "That guy who was reaped with you…. Is he your brother?" he asked, curiously scared at the possible answer. I know now that I am correct, Lindon saw Rowan get shot, and thinks he is my brother. My heart takes a final stab; I fear it will stop working altogether soon. I shake my head. "No, Rowan is my boyfriend…" I say sadly, Lindon's eyes widen, I can tell he now knows that I lost another person near to me today as well.

I lay my head on the table, hoping that life will drift away from me again, but instead Imelda walks in through the door of the carriage. A moment of confusion sweep over me, I raise my head off the table. I glace behind me, a window, with country side streaming past in a blur. I am on a train, to the capitol, to the hunger games, my imminent death is soon to come, I smile slightly, knowing I will be with Rowan faster than I can imagine.

I remember his words, and pray that the truth lies within them, that all he wished for will come true.

"If I go today, I want you to know that I will come back for you, even if I only get to come to you from heaven." He says.

His eyes shone with sincerity, and hope that this will come true and I will make them true, even if it is the last thing I ever do.

I daze back into the world, a smile on my face. I will try everything in my might to win this completion, just so I can take myself to heaven with Rowan, knowing I am not part of their game, and if I do die in their game, I will be with Rowan.

I find my lips grinning without my allowance, knowing that anything I ever do, will lead me to the ones I love, even if death is the only way to see them.

I realise that I look exceptionally stupid. I just told Lindon that Rowan and my brother were both killed today, and now I am smiling giddily while looking in his general direction. I can tell by the look on his face, he thinks I am strange.

Imelda sits down loudly, her tight skirt stretching, ripping slights, but she doesn't notice, ordering some strange capitol dish for her breakfast, Lindon seems concerned at my sudden rebound from depression. The waitress, a quiet young woman dressed in a red uniform raises her eyebrows at me, as if to ask if I would like some food now. I nod gently, smiling at her. Within seconds there is a plate of stew placed in front of me.

I eat gently in silence for a few minutes, the flavours of orange and peach infused into the meat, make my mouth water, I have to restrict myself from eating to quickly, my stomach still flailing from earlier.

Imelda finishes her meal quickly, looking up at us. She raises her eyebrows when neither of us speaks, so she begins.

"You two are obviously the two tributes from District 7, and we will be arriving in the capitol in an hour." She looks at us, willing us to ask questions; obviously she never has quiet tributes.

"Since your district has never had a victor, you will be entirely under my care." She glares at us, not threateningly, but she does appear slightly scary. The pulls a ruffled piece of paper from her purse, clipping it tightly shut again, she flattens out the piece of paper with her fingers before reading it.

"Eleven o'clock reaping, Twelve til one, visiting, maximum 7 minutes per group." She smiles gently at the paper, "Then we have our first time slip up, we boarded the train at quarter past three, instead of three o'clock." She tries to annunciate this so it shows us just how wrong we are, but she doesn't get a reaction from either of us, so she continues.

"Dinner was at six," she glares lightly at me, "And breakfast is at 9, we get off the train at 10 o'clock, and then start prepping at 11 o'clock. We have our parade at 6pm, and dinner at 8 o'clock." Imelda looks at us; I can tell my day will be hard, packed with her glare, and uncomfortable awkward silences.

I glance up, around the room, taking in things I missed before, I can see, imbedded in the wall if a tiny clock, its crystal hands blending with the walls. The time ticking away faster than my mind can comprehend.

I stare at the time hand as it moves from half past, to quarter to, the time going much faster than my brain wills it too, I sit and stare as it itches to the end of the ride. My eyes fall of the clock after about 30 minutes, the hand still itching around. My eyes are drawn to the window; Lindon is standing beside it, the colourful city flowing past.

I push myself up, standing, bumping the table on my way to join him. I stand beside the white frame of a city, the bold coloured people screaming as the train screams past them. Lindon looks down at me, a smile sweeping across his face; He places a hand on my shoulder as we watch the capitol people scream at us.

The train jolts to a stop, the moment throws me forward slightly, Lindon grabs my shoulder holding himself stead on my arm.

Imelda walks over to us, her heels clicking as she walks over to us, she places a hand on both of our shoulders, dragging us with her to the door; I stumble slightly, tripping over Lindon's shoes as Imelda pushes us silently, and forcefully towards the door of the train.

"Welcome to the Capitol!" she says proudly, looking up at both of us, I can see that Lindon's eyes show just as much curiosity as mine. She grimaces as the doors of the train open into a large building, blocking out all of the scream people. Her face tells me what she is about to say before the words leave her mouth. "Don't resist, be strong, and look beautiful." She whispers harshly before pushing the two of us off the train, and onto the platform.

The ripping sensation racks through my body again. The hot water is flushed over my body, as I lay face down on the table. Their hands run over every inch of my body make me feel uncomfortable. I feel the application of wax no longer; every inch of my body has been pruned to an inch of death.

"You may lay on your back now" say a kind voice. I only have two stylists with me at current; they introduced themselves as Magen and Malsie. They look almost identical, subtle features define them, like the darker application of colouring to Magen, than to Malsie. I sigh, shifting my self around on the table so my back is now pressed against the cold metal. I look at them, smiling mindlessly as they press a small button in the corner panel that is filled with a whole bunch of switches for different functions.

I watch as their rainbow hair swings quickly to look at the door, it opens quickly, a young man striding in through it. He has blonde hair, blue eyes, and a solid stature. He looks down at me smiling, before turning and nodding at the other two stylists. They both silently leave the room, leaving just me, naked on a table, and this unknown man.

"Mandel." He says politely, offering me his hand as I sit up. I look at him; he seems like an honest person. "Cassia." I whisper in reply, not knowing what I should be doing. He nods, turning around, and searching the room quickly, finding a tall stool in the corner and dragging it next to me, he sits facing me, examining me with his eyes.

"I watched your reaping." He says without looking up from his visual examination. I nod gently, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He notices my discomfort, and lifts his eyes to mine, "I take it that your boyfriend was the other one reaped?" he says, turning his head curiously. This man could be no older than Rowan, and he seems so gentle and calm. "Um…."I start, not knowing which 'one' he means, the one who came with me, or the one who is now lying in a cold wooden box, thousands of miles away.

Mandel sighs slightly, playing with his fingers as he stares into my eyes, he begins when I don't reply after a minute or so, "I saw that you were reaped, then your, boyfriend, I'm presuming, broke down in tears, until they called his name out too. Then there was a volunteer to take his place, something he can't refuse," he tells the storying, moving his hands around in funny little gestures, "The other guy who was reaped, sure had eyes for you too." He mutters, to conclude his little story, looking a little confused by the end.

I stare at him, seeing this from his perspective; I'm a desirable young lady who is in love. "Tell me about the first one, the first man" he says eagerly, looking at me.

I swallow nervously, "I don't know what you want to know about him…."I stutter. He looks at me patiently, "What did he say to you when he said goodbye?" he asks, trying to start me off.

I clear my face of emotion, "He came to me, covered in blood…"I whisper, "He told me that my brother murdered someone, and then was shot dead in the town square." I say gently, like it doesn't matter, I watch as his eyes widen slightly. "Once he was gone from the room, I heard a scuffle and his pleading…" I stop here for the dramatic effect of the tale. "Then they shot him dead too." I whisper, I can tell my story changes Mandel's idea of me. He gulps down his emotion and continues his integration. "Did any other guys come and say goodbye to you?" he asks quietly.

"My boyfriend's brother brought my sister, and his sister to say goodbye to me." I mutter. Mandel is obviously side-tracked again, he stands up, walking around the table again, examining me.

He stops circling after about five laps; he comes and brings his chair a little further away, as if not to interrogate, but to talk with me. "From what I saw at the reaping, I thought we would go with a very striking young woman, who is desirable." He says, looking deep into my soul, "We will still do this, but we will make you look very independent as well." He says honestly.

"I will have to work on your dress for a while; your makeup will be done later." He says, as if to ask my permission to begin. "What will I be wearing?" I ask gently, knowing that my district is usually depicted as tree's, in gruesome brown sacks.

Mandel smiles a mischievous smile to me, and shakes his gently. "You will know later, when you see it. Because I have to paint most of it." He says playfully.

Mandel walks over to a large rack of clothing, all in bags; he scans through the racks quickly, pulling out a small bag. He hands it on a different rack, ripping the zipper of the bag down. I see he pulls out two pieces of patterned fabric; they seem to be connected, I shudder at how little fabric there is. It looks like elastic, the visible of texture of satin, the pattern of bark on it, a deep rustic brown that looks like a tree embedded into the fabric.

Mandel walks over to the table, holding the thin piece of material with a smug grin; I think he is enjoying this more than he should be. "Off you hop," he says taking my hand as I drop off the table, I stand slightly shorter than him, but I am much smaller, he is wide set and muscular. His smug expression amplifies when he finds my eyes again. "Excuse me" he whispers, stretching out the bark coloured fabric, sliding it over my head, and bodice.

I catch a good look at it, as Mandel stands back to examine it. It is exceptionally tight fitting at the top, yet the bottom it flowing. The top has no sleaves; it stops right above the bust, straight cut, tight and flattering. The top of the dress stops underneath my left boob, and then diagonally leads across to my hip, leaving a large triangle of bare skin on my stomach. The top does the same on the back, stoping just below my shoulder blade, leading down my bare back.

Mandel spins me around by grabbing my waist; his hands are firm but brief. He stares at the back of me, allowing my time to take in my skirt. It is looser fitted, made from the same material; it is tight at the back, longer there too. The front stops short at on the left side, only about four inches from the top of my thigh. It too slopes down to the right, coming to about four inches above the knee. It is flowing and pretty, attractive and alluring. Just the thin sheet of fabric is a work of art. I can't wait to see what Mandel in store for me.

He grabs me from behind the waist, the simple gesture makes me jump when I realise that he is meant to be doing it. He gently spins me around, using his eyes to try and figure out what my jump was about. I don't let my eyes reply, so I see he leaves it be. "It fits better than I could have hoped." He says proudly, I smile. "I love it." I whisper. He grabs my hips gently, lifting me onto the table with no effort at all. I can tell he wants me to lie on the table, I swing my legs over onto the cold metal, he smiles, before disappearing from my sight into the corner of the room.

He walks over slowly, opening a huge box full of funny coloured liquids, and gels, he places it on his stool, opening a few canisters and playing around a few brushes. A few moments of rummaging wait out before he turns to me, a small dish in his hand, and a mischievous grin on his face. "I need you to stay perfectly still" he whispers, leaning over me, placing the brush to my skin, tickling the hell out of every part of my body he touches. I close my eyes and grit my teeth, hoping it will end soon.

After what fells like 5 five pass, Mandel makes me stand up, examining his work thoroughly. He has painted my face, and every other inch of my skin. He has demanded that I keep my eyes closed, so 'the paint can dry' but I feel it may just be more so he gets a reaction from me.

I have been standing for about an hour, as he paints intricate details onto the back of my body. He pulls up; I can hear his walking in circles around me. The scuffle of furniture tells me he is ready, I can tell a large mirror has been placed in front of me. "Open." He whispers.

My eyes flutter open, I gasp in shock, I can see Mandel's smile in the mirror behind me. He has painted the bark to be in three dimensions, it looks like real bark off a tree. He has painted vines, trailing around the top, the top of the skirt and they even flow around my arms and neck. The details go down so you can even see the thorns on the vines. The wines lead gently around my figure, leading to a single white rose of the top of my dress; it is so well done that is sticks off, having the real dimensions of rose. I smile, taking in each aspect of the dress. I almost fail to notice the designs lain into my skin. Painted in a tone only a few shades darker than my skin tone, little vines and flowers, on my stomach, neck and legs. It makes me look magical, little gems impacted into the paint.

My face looks sweet and innocent, rosy red cheeks, vivid green eye shadow, highlighting my eyes, and the gems on the dress. My hair is curled and it falls gracefully down my shoulders. What Mandel has created is an unbelievably beautiful girl; I turn to look at him, my face in a full fledged smile.

"You should stay like that." He whispers, "It makes you look whole." He smiles, taking my hand, leading me from the room, to make my new first impression on the Capitol, showing them that I could be a force to be reckoned with, a force that will break their heart.

He leads me down the hall, to the parade, I feel more ready than ever.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N

It is short, I am sorry, took me ages to actually sit down and finish this one, just because it is a little dull.

I have only just noticed that my perspective changes, that I thought were marked, have been taken out by the website, so despite my trying to make it easier for you to read, it's not. Sorry for that, if you ever get confused about perspective, it's probably changed.

I will change my way of changing perspectives from now. Thanks.

Chapter eight.

The lights are blinding me, just in the stable; I can feel they are shining through the sky, trying to highlight who will be this year's winner. Lindon walks up to me, I almost crack up laughing, he is wearing the same stupid tree costume as last year, while I stand here, short dress, revealing my skin, tainted with little painted flowers. He smiles at me, the kind of smile that knows he looks stupid, and he can't do anything about it.

Mandel wandered off a few moments before Lindon appeared, I assume that the stylist's are congregating somewhere to talk clothes, because more tributes start arriving, their stylist leaving, they stand there, fierce looking, ready to kill. I feel a little sick at the thought of these people killing each other. I don't let my fear show; I put on a rosy, charming smile, and stand with my arms behind my back, minding my own business, while Lindon glares around the room.

He appears behind me silently, yet I notice him. I look back over my shoulder smiling; he pulls a broad grin out too. I turn around to face him, "You ready?" he whispers in my ear, leaning down to me. I nod gently; Lindon turns his glare to us, as his stylist taps him on the shoulder. Mandel's grin grows more when Lindon irritably looks away; he takes my hand, leading me over to a pair of horses, I can tell Lindon isn't following us.

"I want you to try and look as sweet and beautiful as you can possibly be." He says, placing a hand into his pocket, pulling out a couple of white, crumbly rocks. He lifts his head, handing me one of the small rocks, I stand dumbstruck, his smug smile returns. He lifts his hand, placing a rock into his mouth, nodding for me to so the same. I put the small rock in my mouth, a sugary sweetness filling my mouth, I grin at Mandel, he looks down, waving one of the rocks in front of the horse we are standing next to. It hungrily eats the rock as well, Mandel laughs lightly, turning to face me. "This is your chance to tell the Capitol what you are." He says gently, taking my hand and leading me towards the cart. I nod, "Show them just how lovely you are." He says, helping me up into the cart, where Lindon is also standing. He gently pats my hand, as I show him my sweet smile, "Good Luck Cassia." He whispers as the cart starts to move.

The lights blind me, Lindon fumbles with the edge of the cart, wishing for something to hold onto, I dismiss the though of him holding onto me. I am an independent person, loveable, but not able to be held onto. That is what I must portray, my lips pulled into a cheeky smile, my rosy face shining in the light. I wave with one of my hands, holding onto the cart with the other. The screams of capitol people ring through my ears as I come into the full blare of the spotlight.

I heard a throw away comment from beside me, meant for me and no one else. "Aren't we playing this up delightfully? I mean what's more attractive than a tree." Lindon mutters, snide air ringing through his words. It stabs me a little, but I can't help but reply back sarcastically. "Yes, because your tree outfit is so adorable." I whisper, throwing the comment over my shoulder into his face. I can feel the repulsion come off him, he does not take well to mocking, or joking about him.

(Caesar Flickerman's Commentary)

"Welcome! Welcome everyone to our tribute parade. Where the sponsors will see the tributes for the first time, and thousands of people are craning to catch a look at this year's field."

"We are starting with district one, as usual, the district of Luxury is modelling, the usual fur coats. Each tribute is covered in pearls, diamonds, fluffy fur coats and beautifully patterned white clothes, the normal outfits from the district."

"District two, a lovely golden armoured outfit again, we saw it first last year. Each tribute has a golden helmet with god-like wings on it, breast plates, and each have a traditional metal leg protection. Suited to the district, and well presented."

"District three, different costumes than last year, Black cat suits, which is interesting, covered in what looks like wiring, obviously making a circuit. Nice job by the designers, it really does show the districts product technology well."

"District four, ooh! Another interesting outfit. This year we have both tributes modelling fish costumes, the texture given off by the scales is wonderful! I can tell the stylist from this district have been working their tails a lot this past year!" Caesar laughs as he ends that district, quickly leading onto the next.

"District Five!" Both dressed as power plant workers, in their coveralls, look dashing compared to last years, matched to the district well. Good job to the stylists."

"District six. Looks like the field this year has gone all out on the cat suits! Two nice black cat suits modelled here, with the white dotted line up them, yep, definitely the district of transport, with its road marked cat suits again. Good job to the stylists."

"District seven. Yes, we have one tribute traditionally dressed as a tree, and their girl tribute is dressed quite well this year, also a tree, but in a much… smaller outfit. The stylist has obviously put a lot of thought into making this outfit appropriate to this year's tributes. Great costumes!"

"District eight. Yes, we have again for big, coloured, multi-fabric, not sure what to call them, costumes, as usual they are eye catching and fun. Looks like the stylists are still on the same track as last year with these outfits."

"District nine. Yes, both beautiful outfits made from, what looks like grain itself. I think that outfit would be ever so itchy! But these tributes are keeping strong, and looking dashing for the cameras like normal. Nice designs from this district."

"District ten. Interesting costumes, we have moved from sheep to cows now, and both our tributes are dressed in black and white cow costumes, obviously showing what their district manufactures, and interesting choice from the stylists."

"District Eleven!" Oh, beautiful, denim coveralls are back people, these two tributes are obviously depicting farmers, who work in district eleven, obviously show, and simply done by the stylist, good job to all who worked on them, they look stunning."

"District Twelve. We have again, two coal miners, in their coal dusted overalls, these costumes are almost identical to last years, they look amazing though, and they look like these tributes could easily just go off and work in a mine right now."

"We congratulate our stylists efforts for tonight, and we welcome the citizens of Panem to come and tune in tomorrow when we review the parade properly, as the tribute start their first day of training tomorrow, and will be busy. Until then, Goodnight!"

(Cassia's view)

Lindon shifted slightly after my comment, his foot 'accidentally' kicking mine, I presume he is angry at me for my comment, but as he pull to a sudden stop, he tries to grab my hand to stead himself, his hand realises what he is trying to do, and stops instantly, face turning a darker shade that normal, I almost laugh under my breathe, but I can't, not at him. How can I mock a man, when I don't know his story, and I will soon have to kill him, I know I have to play up the nice, so I simply smile at him, and he glares in the other direction.

The carriage pulls a full circle after President Snow has spoken, I couldn't hear most of what he was saying, my ears still ringing from the screaming crowds. The cart pulls us underneath the training centre, Lindon ignores me as the cart stops, standing where he has been the entire trip, not moving from the chariot.

I jump down quickly, knowing I don't want to try and face Rowan, so I stand awkwardly, about five metres from the cart, watching other tributes standing around, and waiting for their escorts. A boy tribute from district one has taken too intently stare at me, his eyes wandering where I don't wish them, I look away. I find another person who is staring at me, doing the exact same thing as the boy from one, the boy from district two has his eyes locked where I don't think they should be. I turn to find a person who isn't staring at me, but I feel violated when I find yet another boy staring, fixated on me, a guy from district 10, almost drooling.

I spin around looking for a way, out from their stares, yet when I turn, I find Lindon looking down at me, all anger gone, just smiling down at me. I look lazily up at him, with eyes that say, I am not amused. But he flicks his glace up towards the others behind me, making me turn around.

The three of them stand about a metre away from me, smiling their own smug grins. "You two fancy an alliance?" says the guy from one, sugar coating each word while continuing to stare at me, I look back to Lindon, and he has turned to look away again. I place my eyes onto the boys again, shrugging my shoulders a little, not answering. Officials start filing in to take us away to our rooms, I can't wait for them to come and save me from the awkward staring trio.

Almost by magic, he appears behind me again. Mandel has his hand on my shoulder, the three boys start to leave, the guy from two looks over his shoulder, "Tells us if you want to, ok sweetie." He says winking at me before walking off to join his crew. Mandel swivels around to see my face, his expression changing to be concerned.

"No idea where Imelda has disappeared to, so I will be taking you up for dinner. Traditionally, if you have no victor we are invited, so I would be coming anyway." He whispers in my ear before taking his hand around my shoulder and leading to the elevator.

We stand in silence, Mandel hissed at the other people trying to get into the elevator, so it is just us. He takes me up to the seventh floor, a beautifully furbished apartment, I am in a daze as I sit at the table waiting for Rowan, Imelda and his stylist, I fall into my own little world. Thinking about how Rowan would have reacted to my dress, not with hungry eyes and sugar coated words, treating me like a prized object, but as a beautifully love girl who he adores. The sick minds of the capitol make me sick, drawing me into my head, away from the company that is around me.

People try talking to me, I can't hear them, I just sit in my space eating slowly, and carefully. I daze out at the end of our meal, but before I can think of it, I am tucked into bed with some nice snuggle clothes, no paint, no short skirts, but me. I thank Mandel for taking me back to myself, and pray he will be there to make me feel better when I wake again.


	10. Chapter 9

A/N

Sorry it took a while, no muse for writing as usual. I will try and start the next chapter tonight, so i get it to you soon.

Chapter nine.

I wake up, in a strange room, trying to remember bringing myself here, I scan the room with my eyes a small hanger has a short revealing dress on it, there is a door in the corner, another opposite it, and a chest of draws on the other wall. I remember now, dazing after the parade, I think I remember it being my stylist Mandel bringing me here. I look down to myself, I am wearing pyjamas, and Mandel changed me carefully, taking the paint with the dress, leaving me safe in comfortable clothes.

I stand up out of the bed, walking over to the chest of draws, curious as to what is on top of it, I am relieved to find clothes, a black shirt, black track suit pants and a pair of boots. I slip quickly out of my pyjamas, pulling on the other clothes, obviously laid out for me today. The shirt has a strip of gold across the sleave, with the number seven marked into it. I can tell this is my training shirt, I guess we start right away. I walk over to one of the doors, opening it, annoyed to find a bathroom, not a way out of this room. I walk with purpose over to the other door, opening it, and sticking my head through the opened door. It leads out, so I walk through it.

I walk until I hear noises; I find them in the dining room. Lindon is sitting with a young lady, her face a strange yellow colour, tattoos cover her entire face, I am perplexed as to why anyone would want to look like that. They both look up at me from a quiet conversation when I walk up the stairs and set myself down at the table. The lady, who I presume to be Lindon stylist, looks down, continuing to eat her breakfast silently as Lindon stares at me gently.

Mandel has this thing, about walking in to save me from awkward moments, and so after about twenty seconds of Lindon's glaze, Mandel walks in, pushing Imelda in front of him, she stumbles quickly up the stairs and takes her place at the table. Mandel pulls up a chair next to me, smiling a deadly smile towards Lindon; I can tell they don't really like each other, already.

Imelda is wearing a green dress that looks a lot like a spinach pastry. It is bulging unnaturally, and is a hideously weird green colour that mixes vomit and moss. I look down at my food, not really in the mood for eating much, so I look up again; Imelda pulls a crumpled piece of paper from her purse again. She flattens it out with her fingers before reading from it, "Nine o'clock wake up, Ten o'clock training centre, Lunch will be in the training centre, and then dinner will be here at six." She reads loudly, before stuffing the piece of paper away again. Mandel obviously feels we should know exactly what to do, seeing as Imelda is not doing a particularly warming job at hosting us. "The training centre is where you train for the arena." Mandel says with a tone of authority, looking towards Lindon to confirm he is listening. "Do the survival skills first, and don't do anything you are good at," he says, glaring at Lindon again, knowing that if he says it, Lindon will probably do the opposite.

A bell rings in the apartment, at a quart to ten; I have been sitting in silence, eating slowly at a table of food, but Mandel pulls me to my feet, Lindon stands and follows us, his stylist and Imelda trot along behind us. We walk swiftly towards the elevator, the doors open instantly, as if my some magical device. We all step inside, I don't think it is tradition for our escorts to go to training with us, but I don't really mind.

The doors open as swiftly as they did before, it opens this time into a large room, bigger than any building I have ever seen, it makes the Peace Building look like a matchbox. Each wall is lined with targets, bays of weapons lay scattered about in the room, there is a large glassed over balcony, containing about twenty people. Other tributes start to file in, bringing their escorts with them briefly, before their escorts depart into a different room.

Mandel turns to me, "Don't let them taunt you ok?" he whispers, I nod gently, as he starts walking off, to join Lindon's stylist, and Imelda in the other area. Lindon hovers close to me as they make us form a group, we all stand, muddled against each others bodies as a woman tells us the rules of the training centre. No fighting others, do the recommended exercises, the usual stuff I would have done anyway. The lady dismisses us soon after she has mentioned the rules; I turn to leave when I find a group of people circled around behind me. Seven people are looking at me and Rowan, I didn't think it was quite this fast to form alliances, a blonde girl steps forward, I think I recognise her from district one. She smiles smugly at me; I jus turn and walk in the opposite direction, walking away from an alliance, not really wanting to be paired with any of the starers.

I find my way toward a large net, strung across the wall, it leads up to a higher platform, I have the feeling there is something I should do up there, and it will take a while for the others to follow me up the rope. I grasp the first part sharply, hoisting my way up, until I am about four meters off the ground, the rope net changes style, to a much finer knot, much harder to grab onto. I climb a further few meters, before the net slips off the wall, I am soon upside down, dangling from a thin rope, attached to a wall. I can see everyone from here; it has only taken a few minutes to get everyone settled at a station, and I can carefully peer at each persons work. A girl from district four, a slender young blonde girl, has an array of knives in her hand, pelting them at different walls in turn.

"Cassia Green" a small voice calls out, it is a mans voice, I can tell, but I don't know where exactly it came from. A little freaked out, I quickly scan the floor around me for anyone who might be calling for me; I see no prying eyes as I dangle, so I quickly scurry up the last few metres of rope to the platform. My hands feel slightly abused when I finally scrape the floor of the platform. I find the platform has a range of different tactic stuff on it, some not on the ground floor, which makes it slightly exclusive. "Cassia…" the voice whispers again, I spin around frantically, I find a boy, probably my age, dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a quiet smile on his face, looking at me. He is sitting next to a hole in the floor, legs dangling down it. "I'm surprised you didn't notice the stairs." He says, sarcastically, tugging at a rope dangling from the hole, I notice now that it is a rope ladder, I almost slap myself in the face. There was a ladder, to get onto the platform, oh, and I am sure I would have missed the stairs too, but I am thankful there are none. I feel really stupid, as I raise myself up to be standing, the boy stands too, hoisting the ladder up quickly, so that no one else can climb up. He turns to me once he is done with the rope, "Kiran" he says, offering me his hand to shake, "Cassie" I whisper quietly, taking his hand and shaking it softly. He smiles and retracts his hand quickly, looking around to see if we are alone. "I watched your reaping, when I was on the train." He mutters quietly, "It looked awful." He whispers. I smile gently at him, nodding before walking away from yet another person who thinks they know what is going on.

I walk over and find myself a bow, never having used one before, as I line it up, I notice something. There are no guides up here, no teachers, no one. I think this is the place to go it you don't really like talking to other people; I think it shall be my hideout. I line up my arrow on the nook in the bow, pulling back to string to its full capacity. I release the tension, the arrow flies to a target, implanting it into the dummies hand. I sigh; my aim will be skew as long as I think someone is watching me. I turn around, to glare at the boy; he is sitting on a bench, with a knife staring at me. He looks down when he notices I am looking at him, I turn back, breathing slowly, I visualise the target, just that little red dot that I want. The arrow cuts through it like a knife through butter, taking out the red bull's eye, like there is nothing to it. I place the bow back in its bracket as I walk over to where the boy is sitting, placing myself down next to him, he looks up, curious.

"So Kiran… What did you plan on doing up here?" I ask, looking down at the knife he is holding. He laughs lightly, flicking the knife over gently, "I'm not really sure, I have never done any of this stuff before." He whispers, he looks like one of those intelligent people who never really get to do anything for themselves. "Why haven't you done anything like this?" I ask, just trying to figure out this kid. "District five." He mutters, I know the one, Industrial Power is its function, and they create all of the power for Panem. Most people have jobs in the factories. There is very little space in the district; I can't imagine any of them learning to throw knives as children there. I nod, indicating to him that I understand why, I take them knife from his hand, weigh it gently in my own as I stand up.

I turn to the first dummy near be, swing my body around, flicking my wrist quickly, imbedding the knife into the chest of the doll, a death blow with no doubt. I stand in my position for a few seconds, before turning around to see Kiran's face. He is shocked; definitely scared too, I just want to scare him enough that he leaves me alone. I walk swiftly over to the dummy, dragging the knife from its chest, turning to face the boy again. "If you don't know what you're doing, maybe you should find a teacher." I pull the knife up, as though aiming at him, I see his eyes widen, and he holds his breath, "One that doesn't want to kill you." I hiss, this has the desired affect, he stands abruptly, walking while looking over his shoulder, he goes to the hole, letting the ladder fall down again, and climbing quickly down it. I can tell there will be rumours around later, I mean, the sweet, innocent, desirable girl, suddenly turns into a sharp throw, with no fear. I shrug it off, wondering if it could get any better.

I throw a range of knives for about half an hour, getting slowly bored at the ease of this task, I wish move on, this platform has knives, and bows to use, but there is another platform I can see. It is connected to this one with a single rope, strung from floor to floor; I know it is my way of getting there.

I leave an array of knives in the dummies, I lie on the floor next to the rope, inching my way across to the edge. My fingers grip onto the rope, it is rough, but graspable. I lock my grasp onto it, swinging my legs across the platform, into the abyss between platforms. I dangle by my fingers, above most of the training equipment; I can see the boy from one, a sword in hand, locked in a deadly duel with a trainer. Many other tributes are scattered around in battle, I spot the boy I threatened earlier, and he is trying to start a fire, unsuccessfully.

I swing my legs up onto the rope, as to let myself hang here longer; I inch my way in the direction of the second platform. It's the girl from four who notices first, her head snaps upwards, my fingers slip. I am dangling by my legs, ten metres from the floor; she raises her hand, pointing directly at me, I am sprung now. I have to do something dangerous, and good to get them to think they should leave me alone.

I could shuffle onto the next platform, but I fear they would then, try to follow me onto it, I am hanging, soon to slip. The guy from one walks over to the girl from four, looking up at me. A few others put down their weapons, gazing up in shock at me. I have to do something now, feeling like a trapped rat.

I smile gently, making up my mind about what I am going to do, it will be hell ass bad if I get it wrong, usually I have Rowan to catch me, but I will free fall to injury if this goes wrong. I swing myself, using my stomach, so my hands are back onto the rope. I lift my feet off the rope, holding them in the air. I bring my legs slowly onto one side of the rope, positioning my hands, so one is on either side of my legs. I hang like this briefly, fearing the next part of my manoeuvre.

I use all of my strength, slinging myself over the other side of the rope, swing once, twice around it, using my strength I fling myself off the rope. I fly through the air, adrenalin pumping to my ears; I do a single somersault, landing in a crouch, about five meters away from the group of careers. I stand swiftly, walking to an empty area, to learn everything it has to offer. The trainer had been watching me, quickly shuffled back into the area to teach me. I quickly find out that this area is about knot tying. I know a little bit about this, but I am an effectively quick learn. I am tying nooses within a few minutes of sitting down. "You certainly know what to do with rope." Says the trainer jokingly. I smile my own little deadly smile, leaving the noose on his desk as he dismisses me.

I walk around, admiring every station I know I shouldn't go to. I now skip the archery, knives, sling shots, and other projectiles that I have the feeling I am already good with. I settle at a snare making station, working carefully on the fiddly trap that I already know how to do, I figure people shouldn't care if I can eat and trap their ankle, but they would care if they knew I could cut their head off.

I finish snare after snare, leaving them disguised in bushes as I move onto the next. I am working on a particularly complicated one when a boy comes and kneels down beside me. He has curly blond hair, sea blue eyes, and a dark tan. I can immediately tell he is from district four, as I saw him at the parade. He starts a snare of his own, awfully close to mine, working at the fiddly knots.

"You are good with rope." He says, noting the quick slurry of movements I am doing with my hands, I look at him, knowing it is the careers trying to pry information from me, I decide to play along. "Yeah, rope is fun to play with" I whisper, trying to conceal a note of sarcasm in my voice. I finish a particularly complicated snare as he works on the fiddly knots. I move my snare away from me slightly, pulling his gently towards me; he lets me, staring at the pieces of wire. I drag it a little bit closer; he shuffles over to view my fiddly hands. I finish his snare for him, as he watches intently.

"So how do you feel about that alliance?" he whispers, rocking back so he is almost kneeling upwards. I use my eyes to question him; he gets a little frustrated, shifting in his spot again. The sickening cracking of bones sounds, I stand quickly, as he falls to the ground. The boy from four just put his foot in one of my other snares; I stumble backwards as the trainer at this station rushes over. I leave the scene quietly, hoping I don't alert anyone else to the accident of my snare, though I guess I was right about their ability to break ankles.

As I make my way to a different station, the trainers call lunch, I walk slowly, letting everyone in front of me, I take a tray of lunch, sitting at a lone table, leaving everyone well enough alone.

All the careers sit at a single table, six of them talk loudly together, and the boy from four comes in after about fifteen minutes, not even a limp to show for his troubles. As soon as he sits down, a hush falls over the room, a few hissed whispers come from around the room; I can feel several sets of eyes are locked onto me. I try and look enthusiastic about my stew, so they might leave me alone.

The scrapping of a tray indicates that someone has come to sit with me, Lindon kicks me under the table, I don't think I know anyone who could be quite as blunt. I look up him, putting on a sarcastic smile. "I thought your stylist was worried about me making a spectacle of myself." He whispers, obviously angry. "Well it didn't all go to plan." I hiss in return, glaring at him. "Yeah, a somersault from a ten metre high rope, and then whatever you did to that guy's leg!" he hisses, fury swelling up in his hushed words.

I simply raise my eyebrows at him, before continuing to eat my food in silence. He goes to eating too, the tension in the room defusing somewhat, people start eating, and the careers continue their loud conversation that was ongoing from earlier. After a long, drawn out hour, the bell rings again, indicating that we are allowed to continue what we like, in the training centre. I start with survival skills, time flashes past quickly, before I know it, the day is over, and I am lying in my soft bed again, waiting for morning to come.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N Not too much going on in this chapter… Meh.

Chapter ten.

The day starts again, the same as yesterday. A quick breakfast, but this time no one takes us down to training, we are solely on our own from now. Lindon hasn't really spoken much too me since our little feud over being a spectacle. He clears his throat as we enter the elevator, I know he wants to say something to me, apologize maybe. Not really sure what he wants, nor do I particularly care what he thinks, he will die soon, as will I, and everything will be all done. Feelings don't really count now.

He gives an annoying cough as he presses the button, his attempts to catch my attention annoy me, I turn to him, "Yes?" I ask, looking at him in a prying way. He pauses, "I don't like it." He mutters, looking down at his shoes. "Don't like what?" I ask, slightly worried about his reply. He looks up honestly, "I don't like the way they talk about you." he mutters, our conversation is cut off by the opening of the elevator doors, I don't see his face as he leaves the lift, I stand awkwardly before walking out.

The training centre is empty, of all but a few people, mostly from outlining districts, at the survival skills. I have a hard time thinking of what I should do, seeing as I finished most of the survival skills yesterday. I find the net again, swiftly making my way up, taking no time to grace the changing knot pattern. I am on the first platform within a few seconds. Walking swiftly across the floor to make it to the rope, I want to at least be on the next platform today, I also don't really want to have people crowding around below me.

I find the floor easy enough, dragging myself across to the rope. My legs are hanging from the rope, my hands straining against the fibre again. I swing my legs up, shuffling my way slowly, towards the second platform. My fingers almost slip as I reach about the four metre mark; I rest them each in turn before setting off again. I have inched my way a little further when the majority of people arrive, I force myself to move a little faster on the rope, causing it to swing from side to side. The boy from ten, a career scans the rope quickly, eyes settling on me. I feel a batt of fury rise within me, I swing the rope the opposite way than it is swing, as to put me on top of the rope, and to calm the gently rocking. The careers arrive in elevators, only a few seconds apart, so the entire group is walking over to gawk at me again shortly. I lift myself shakily onto the rope in a crouching position; I walk gently a few steps, trying to contain the rocking.

"Can you direct us to the stairs?" comes a loud, boisterous voice from below, belonging to the boy from district two. I can no longer contain my wobbling, I swing off the top of the rope, and so I am again dangling, clutched on by my legs. I release my hands, dangling upside down in front of them. "Sure" I say in a sugary sweet voice, "It's over there" I say, pointing to the blank wall beside the second platform, "Or you could just levitate yourself up." I whisper sarcastically, I feel their fury rising up from here; I reattach my hands to the rope. My last few metres go by very quickly; it is only about a minute later that I am sitting on the edge of second platform.

The careers get bored once I am off the rope, they disperse into different stations of the room, I stand up, wandering around the different stations of this platform. A vast array of knives, axes, swords and spears lay next to a bunch of dummies. I feel I should focus on something other than my aim this morning; I wander around the room, searching every space for anything else.

I find a book, I figure what harm could it do, so I sit down and read it. Each page contains a different piece of vegetation, with instructions on how to find it, and what to do with it. I avidly read each page, taking in things I should have known back home. The list of noxious plants, most of which I have never seen, is quite extensive. I mentally note everything the book says, not wanting to die from a deadly fruit; I would rather die with some kind of valour, than stupidity. I put the book down after about three hours, making a note with myself to go down to the plant station later and try my memory.

A dull start to the morning soon picks up, I take a spear in my hand, weighing it, like I do for the knives I throw. It is a well weighted spear, balanced nicely; I grasp the shaft firmly, drawing it back, like a snake poised to kill. It is obviously engineered to be easy to throw; I hit the target first time, the spear coming out of the other side of the dummy. I shrug it off, if I can throw a spear and impale a dummy the entire way through, I am sure others will be able to do a lot more than that. I lift my next weapon from the array, a small cutting axe, something I am very familiar with, something I can use well.

I raise the axe, feeling the metal between my fingers, I pelt it forward, taking my arm with it, I fling the axe through the air, and it spins in a dizzy rush. The dummy is hit where I planned, the axe imbedded deeply into the neck of the doll, the head, hanging off by a thread. I feel a rush of pleasure, as after a few seconds, the entire head of the doll falls off. I smile, hoping I will be able to use this to my advantage.

I have two very dead dummies next to me, and a large vocabulary of weapons to continue to play with. I lift up a rather deadly looking knife, pelting each one into a separate dummy, impaling it, of simply using them to remove limbs from the dolls.

A few hours pass of my insane throwing of knives, each dummy lies on the floor, murdered each in their own obscene way. I laugh a wicked laugh, just as the bell rings. I walk quickly over to the edge of the platform, knowing it will take me a little while to get back using the rope. I spy another platform, a bit further away, turning the two platforms into a triangle. The next platform in connected to this one in no normal way, there are ropes dangling from the ceiling leading the way across. It is the way to the next stage, but I decide it shall wait, my stomach grumbling as I walk to the other side of the platform. Most people are slowly packing up their weapons; I note that the door for lunch is located directly below my feet, the line for food is right next to where I am sitting, perched on the edge of the platform.

The line grows, the careers hanging deliberately at the back, Lindon stands directly beneath me. The scene is set, I can't get down on my own like this, and there is no other way.

I miaow gently; the noise of a stranded cat draws no heads, well, apart from the one I want. Lindon looks up at me; a sweep of confusion crosses his face. The bottom of the platform blends in with the texture of the roof; you would never know it was here if it weren't for my legs dangling, and my head peering off it. Lindon looks really concerned as I look at him, 'You going to jump?' he whispers, no one else hearing him. I nod at him, 'Catch me' I whisper back, swivelling myself around so my entire torso is dangling off the edge of the platform. I drop quickly, a rush of air passes past my hair, and his gently hands stop my fall before I reach the ground.

He sets me gently on the floor, looking deep into my eyes, his face radiating a smile. The silence that is now filling the room tells me that the careers saw me jump, I just shrug it off, and it's their problem if they don't like me. Lunch is served again, a tray of delectable Capitol food is placed before me. I take my serve and meet Lindon at an empty table near the back of the room, everyone from outlining districts sits quietly, lone or with their district partner. The silent career squad are still being served as Lindon starts talking to me.

"Are you trying to make friends, or do you just plan on making enemies?" whispers Lindon, taking a mouthful of food. "Have you made any friends?" I ask, picking away at my own lunch, He looks up from his meal. "I met a few people." He whispers, "A boy from five, and a girl from ten, both seem friendly, but useless" he mutters. I raise my eyebrows, the boy from five is the one I was nasty to yesterday, and now he is trying to get to Lindon, the kid needs some help. I pretend to be un-interested in the topic, picking at my food, until I am finished with it.

The scraping noise of a table being move sounds out through the dining area. The careers have dragged a long table to be connected to ours. The boy from one scoots over to be sitting awfully close to me; the girl from one is sitting the same way with Lindon. I try to ignore them, as the other five careers sit down next to them.

The boy from one, starts playing with a lock of my hair, fiddling it between his fingers. I can see from the look coming from under Lindon's covered face, he would probably try and bite off the boys fingers if he did anything to me. I smile a little at the thought of the boy losing his fingers.

The girl from district one flickers her hair, straight across Lindon's face; I see the balled fury leaking out of him. He turns his head, giving her a glare that could kill you; she pulls back her hair, a grin winding up on her face. I watch as Lindon's hand starts to move, I reach the knife on the table before he does, pulling it off the table onto my lap, resting my hand where it was before. Lindon's hand is still moving slowly towards where the knife was, his fingers grasp the air, his anger fill gaze flicks to me, his makes another visibly accentuated movement to grasp the knife. His eyes locking onto mine, "Cassia." He growls, the boy from one looks quite confused, the rest of the table is oblivious towards the motion. "Cassie…" he growls, "Give it here." His words are cutting like knives; I just smile sweetly, "No." I say curtly, "Give it" as he utters the threatening words; the girl flicks her hair in his face again.

Lindon dives at her, fingers locked around her neck instantly, he is shaking her violently, and she falls to the ground. He is sitting on her chest, squeezing the life out of her as they pull him off, they drag him out of the room, and two more peace keepers lift up the gasping girl and carry her from the room. The boy from four slides over on the bench, sitting across from me, He smiles gently, trying to hold my gaze. I bring my hand up from underneath the table, holding Lindon's knife in my hand, flicking it around in my fingers.

"Your boyfriend has a short temper." Remarks the boy from one, I raise my eyebrow, gazing at him. "Not really" I whisper, and he raises his eyebrow at me now. "You should see mine" I whisper, dropping my gaze back to my knife, flicking it faster through my fingers. "I'd love to see that" remarks the boy from district one, flicking his eyebrows up in a way I find awfully rude. "I'd love to see what you can do." He mutters, dropping his eyebrows and becoming solemn, when he sees how tightly I am gripping the blade of the knife.

"Why would you be interested in what I can do?" I say harshly, flicking a threatening gaze at the two boys, "I saw what you did with ropes." Whispers the boy from four, I scan them with my eyes, trying to find out if they are telling the truth, or just want to get me in trouble for stabbing them at the lunch table. I have the feeling in my stomach that any alliance I will make will try and kill me eventually, not something I want to do really. "So I can act like a monkey, anything else?" I say impatiently

The boy from one picks up a lock of my hair again, "An arm" he whispers, I am confused about what he means, he wants my arm? He see's the confusion displayed across my face. "I got hit be an Arm." he whispers, fiddling with my hair again. I stare at him; he got hit by an arm, so he wants me as an ally. "It fell from the ceiling." He whispers, "Cleanly cut, the entire way through, falling rapidly from the sky." He explains, poring it out like it was something amazing.

"You were hit with a rogue falling arm?" I ask, staring at him in disbelief, he nods seriously, as though this is an amazing thing. I burst out laughing, mocking every fibre of his story. He looks taken aback. "Have you ever been up there?" I ask, looking at him seriously, though I am joking. He shakes his head, "If you have been up there you would realise why your story is so stupid." I say, he looks wounded. "How do I get up there?" he asks, I stare at him as though disbelieving. "You use the stairs, silly" I say, ruffling his hair. The bell rings to end lunch, I stand, walking back into the training hall.

I know I can't go back up to the platform today, as everyone will see me go up their, and realise the way. I walk over to the plant section, to test my morning's knowledge. I spend ages, gracing through every test the instructor gives me, proving my memory is still sharp as ever. The man from knife work wanders over to watch, obviously interest in his subject has fallen, and everyone has moved onto survival skills. He invites me over to work the blades for a while; it would be suspicious if I refused.

I spot Lindon, working with spears at the moment, the instructor hands me a knife, telling me to aim for the dummy in the middle. I throw the knife, aiming for a spot on the back wall, hitting it dead on, but not the dummy. The instructor raises his eyebrows questioningly at me, handing me another blade, I throw this one, curving it to graze past the doll and land in the wall, on the other side of the dummy. The knife flies the way I wish it, embedding itself into the wall.

"Trying to avoid something are we?" the instructor whispers in my ear, I give him a sly smile, he walks over to the wall, I follow him. We are well out of earshot now. "You focus on a point, and then it disappears, the point is now embedded with a knife." he mutters, trying to drag the first knife out of the wall, it is embedded to the hilt, I sigh, grabbing the knife and pulling it out for him, he takes the second one out easily, as it is in at an angle.

We walk over to the dummy, the instructor points to its left index finger, before going back to our original throwing point. The instructor passes me a knife again. I feel it in my palm, the weighty knife, I hold it properly, drawing my arm back, and flicking my wrist to send the knife right through the finger of the dummy, the instructor smiles next to me, pointing to his elbow as he hands me the second knife. I throw it with great precision, throwing the knife at an angle so it cuts of the dummies entire arm from the elbow down. The instructor looks gleeful, he gazes at me, "Have you been going to the platforms?" he asks quietly, I nod, he does to, obviously putting it together that I am the person who has be caught going across the rope a few times. "No one ever goes up there, most people don't even know it exists" he mutters, "Why is it such a secret?" I asked hushed. He looks at me thoughtfully. "Because you have to work your way across the platforms to get to the next, it is rare people get to the second, never to the third, so people stop trying." He whispers, looking up at the ceiling. "The first has the ladder, but after a few minutes, it goes up on its own, if no one has done so already." he whispers, gazing at the rope. So it is the exclusive area that no one ever uses.

I eye the rope again, "What is on the third platform?" I ask, the instructor gains a wicked look in his face, "Speciality weapons." He whispers in awe. I can tell he loves it when people find the specialty weapons. "Like?" I ask quietly, he glances down to me. "Maces, tridents, speciality axes, cross bows…"he whispers, I can tell it is one of the good places to go.

He looks down at me after a few moments, "If you can get there, they may give you a speciality weapon in the arena. If you can get there, go." He whispers mysteriously. The bell rings for us to depart the training area; I walk slowly, looking up at the ceiling. The man has given me a piece of advice I will follow, if you can get there, go. I don't care if the careers think I am worth getting, and hunting down, if I have the advantage, I will take it.

I get in the elevator, a guy from district ten is in there with me, his dark brows furrowed in strain of trying to stare at me. I ignore him, he has teamed up with the careers, I want nothing to do with them. I feel myself breathe and air of confidence as I step out of the elevator on my floor.

Dinner is an extravagant buffet again; I eat slowly in a daze. Lindon looks angry at the world again, Mandel spends the entire dinner trying to catch my attention with his eyebrows, but I ignore most of his attempts, thinking about what special item I could use. I finish my meal, walking to my room, and changing back into my pyjamas again, trying to nestle into sleep when Mandel walks in.

"Imelda told me that Lindon got into trouble today." He says, sitting on the end of my bed, he looks into my eyes, "For trying to strangle another tribute." he says, as though this is new news to me. I just shrug and delve deeper into my minds fantasy about weapons.

Maybe I could go home, maybe I could take care of my family, maybe I could build something of my own, that no one will ever be able to take. I could win this, I could kill everyone, go home and keep living. It all still seems like a fantasy, but I think it is one that could well come true.


	12. Chapter 11

A/N I am going on holidays. I will update when I get back. Which is in about 2 weeks, please don't die. =D

Chapter eleven.

It is day three of training when I wake, my last chance to show everything and do anything I can. I breeze through everything at breakfast, not really talking or doing anything for anyone. I meander towards the elevator, fixated on what weapon I could use. Lindon looks a bit disgruntled by my lack of interest or communication with him. He gets into the elevator silently, pressing the button, looking at me with thoughtful eyes.

"You're planning something." he mutters, I look up, he is still gazing down at me, I don't answer, he sighs, looking frustrated, before looking away again. I shrug off his comment, as we arrive early to training again, finding the place empty again. Lindon walks off away from me, leading towards a station filled with spears, picking up one as the instructor walk towards him. I walk towards the net again, making my way up faster than yesterday, my hands growing stronger with my training.

I lead my way across the platform, walking towards the rope spanning towards the second platform. I swing my legs across the floor, dangling from my fingertips off the rope. I lift my legs slowly onto the rope, making myself look like a monkey, climbing upside down the scaled length of the rope. I reach the platform, swivelling onto the floor and pushing myself onto the platform before standing up.

I walk over to my main challenge, the way of getting to the third platform, a line of ropes, in two rows going towards the next platform. I look down; a span of floor runs the entire way, about ten metres below me. People are scattered around, making their way to their daily activities.

I grab the first rope, my hand gripping tightly onto the rope, feet tipping slightly over the edge of platform. I hold firmly with both hands, letting my legs fall into the abyss. I realise why no one has ever done this before, or very few people. Because as soon as you grab a rope, it starts to lower itself down to the floor, you have to move quickly. I swing violently, pushing myself of the platform with my legs; I scramble to find the next rope. I hold the next one, swinging with my legs again, onto the next rope, my fingers slipping and crumbling fast. I muster all of my strength, hoisting myself up the rope, shimmying my way to the ceiling of the rope, giving myself more time. I scramble to find the next rope, swinging quickly onto it, to find the next, I lunge at it too.

I am panting for breath as I reach the top of the last rope, my arms almost giving way as I lunge towards the next rope, to find myself onto falling onto the floor of the third platform. I hit the ground, winding myself as I roll onto the floor.

It takes me several minutes to stand, rubbing down each part of my body that aches. The ceiling is about two meters from the floor of the platform, not far, but enough to hurt when you fall. I take careful steps examining the platform; a wall of targets is at the far side, many dummies scattered around. I see a trainer, nose deep in a book, sitting on a cut-in-half dummy, next to a large, locked cabinet.

The man has short cropped grey hair and a very amused expression on his face as he lifts his head out of the book. His old face smiles at me, "Took you long enough." he says, putting the book down on the mutilated dummy as he stands up. He walks over to me, as I stand breathless, still and confused. He circles me, examining every inch of me, before smiling sweetly to himself and walking away towards his cabinet.

I stumble blindly after him, walking my way around a range of dummies. He opens the case, looking inside before turning to me.

"These are the speciality weapons; each district has a different one, if you make it up here to train with one, your mentor will get it as an option for a sponsorship gift early. Very few make it up here, in fact you are the first tribute in about four years, so much so, they were considering taking it down." He says, stroking the cabinet gently. I smile, the first one in four years to even make it up to this platform. "Your district gets a speciality axe, designed to come back to you, and the assist in your aim. Not that you need any help with your aim." He notes, nodding towards the second platform. I realise that you can see every target from here, mutilated limbs lying on the floor, knives imbedded in their surface. This is the perfect vantage point to view everything, any tribute does, and I think this would be the perfect place to spy on them from.

During my preoccupation, the trainer removed a box from the cabinet, opening it gently; I let my eyes rest upon the lid. He opens it, a green camouflaged axe rests inside the box, leaves resting around it, make it look truly like a stick covered in leaves. If you saw it on the forest floor, you wouldn't believe it was anything more than a twig. The trainer pulls it out of the box, smiling, he hands the axe to me.

I feel its weight in my hand, beautifully balanced, the blade, sharper than a snakes tooth, and just as fine. The axe is light, camouflaged, and the ideal weapon for me. I weigh it back in my wrist, holding my arm out and flexing it, as if to throw. The trainer nods at me, pointing towards the dummy in the centre of the room. I draw my arm out, ready like a poised snake. I lash my arm forward, throwing the axe towards the doll.

The satisfactory crunching noises tell me it is even more powerful than the knives. The axe has crushed the entire chest of the dummy, the blade sticks halfway out of the other side of the chest. I try to think of what this would look like in a human, instant death, blood and gore is the only thing that comes to mind. The entire dummy is in pieces on the floor, slowly crumbling about to smaller pieces. I realise the blade has something impregnated within it, that causes the item it his to disintegrate. I like this axe even more now.

The trainer gives me a sick smile through the edge of his face. I see he likes this one too. I throw the axe, making every dummy on the entire platform disappear to a mere dust within a few minutes. The trainer turns silently to me, pointing across the floor to the second platform, a distance away across a vast amount of nothing. I hold my aim steady, hoping it doesn't waver over a distance.

The crackling sound of the dummy is satisfying. It crumbles to the floor, the momentum making it swing forward, off the floor of the platform, onto the floor below. I spy the axe on the floor of the second platform, while the dummy lies on the ground floor, sinking into a fine powder. People crowd around the dust of the dummy, staring at it in wonder. How did it get like that?

I hear the trainer chortle a laugh, walking back over to his book, picking it up and starting to read again. He is a man of very few words, but I feel like the things he doesn't say, mean more than anything else. I have passed his test, the final battle of the training centre. I have beaten every test the nature instructors gave me, I have mastered many different weapons, and I have made my way to a platform many people don't even know exists. I think, if I can't win this completion, then life isn't played out on the right cards.

The bell rings for lunch, I walk over to the edge of the third platform, grabbing onto a rope, and gently sliding my way down, until my feet reach the ground floor. I smile to myself as I get my lunch last, sit at a lone table, and then try to stab an array of peas at once. Lindon sits near the Boy from district five, I know there is a minor alliance forming between them, but I fear, if I got into an alliance, and the two of us were left, I wouldn't be able to kill my friend. I have no need for an alliance.

I stab my peas in several different ways, waiting for the bell to ring for us to go out and train again, it soon does, and I leave my stay of severed peas to find something else better to kill. I make my way across to the spears, the only thing I have yet to truly master long distance, so I spend a long few hours disembodying dummies with spears before we are finally dismissed to leave for the evening.

Tomorrow is the day to show the Game Makers everything, and I will, having a plan form in my mind about how to play myself right. Everyone thinks I am dangerous, everyone thinks I am going to be the one to win, the one who will kill them. I will be the first target in the arena, so I plan to play a bit stupid. I plan to get a bad score as to tell the careers I am not worth chasing after; I am just a fraud with a knack for making myself look good. I think it will go down ok, providing I get a reasonable score, and don't look like I am faking stupid.

I decide all of this as I wait for an elevator, Lindon standing silently beside me, looking at me patiently as if he is waiting for me to talk to him. I don't, I wont, because the one thing I cant afford is to have another person I care about, ripped away from me.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve.

"What are you going to do?" he said, placing a hand onto my back, sitting down and looking thoughtfully at me. Mandel stared at me as I came out of my thoughtful daze, I blinked rapidly, looking confused, "I have no idea…."I mutter, lowering my head as though embarrassed. I hear Lindon sigh immediately, "Just act like a monkey again, you'll win them over for sure." He growls, words cutting, stinging. I look up to see his green eyes trying to bore into me, trying to make me squirm, from the side of my vision, I can see Mandel flicking glances between the two of us. "What are you doing then?" Mandel asked Lindon, forcing his gaze towards him, rather than being directed at me. Mandel's gaze was just as sharp, directed at Lindon, who just shrugged and awkwardly went back to picking at his morning meal.

Mandel and Lindon's stylist have been taking it in turns to find Imelda each morning, as she never turns up for anything, or has anything particularly helpful to say. She was pushed harshly through the door, straightened herself up by brushing off her clothes, and then trotted over to the table, taking her place, Lindon's stylist walked, annoyed, through the door after her, taking her place also.

Imelda immersed herself in the banquet of food, leaving the rest of the table in an awkward silence. I know generally what happens today, we get called one by one, in our districts to perform for our training scores, usually the better scores get you more sponsors, but ones that are bad attract no attention.

I have it all planned out in my head, I stair dreamily around the room visualising what I will soon be doing, Mandel looks down at his watch, sighing briefly before standing up and walking out of the room. I haven't had the motive to talk to anyone recently, I really don't want to be left in a situation to kill a friend of mine, or leave a friend behind to watch me be murdered. I am almost thankful that Rowan rests peacefully now, without having to watch me die.

We sit silently at the table, picking away at our food for what seems like hours, I swear it is past midday when the bell above our elevator rings, I know it is time. Lindon stands and walks carefully, silently, behind me, observing what my every move is. The ding of the elevator invites us inside the silver box, lights flickering as we start moving. I look over and find Lindon's eye brows knitted in confusion at me, I have the urge to look away, but I don't, I feel he has something to say to me, so I simply raise my expression, permitting him to speak.

His voice is a little raspy, not quite as sweet as his usual tone, "I'm sorry" he mutters, looking down briefly before flicking his gaze up to me, "I've been angry," his eyes searched mine, I could feel his gaze shifting. "It's all so unfair." He sighs, anger flitting out of his voice, nervously flicking his gaze about the elevator. "How is it so unfair?" I ask gently, playing with my hands, staring at them as they tie knots with my fingers. Lindon's fingers brush gently under my jaw, making me look up at his eyes, I feel his courage wavier slightly, and he takes his hand off. "Because both of us can't win, and I volunteered so you could go home…. But I don't want to ever leave you." His voice faltered, his eyes fell. I wanted to punch him in the face, I felt betrayed. Mandel said I was desirable, the careers had been chasing after me like I was some prize, and Lindon never wanted to leave me. Death really separates me and Rowan, but I feel betrayed that people think that just because he is gone, that I will instantly forget every feeling of love I ever held for him.

The elevator stops, my hand feels itchy and tense, it just wants to swing and hit something for inflicting this all upon me. But the peacekeepers who are ushering us out of the elevator wouldn't like that. I look down the line, 22 people are sat in chairs, in the order of which they will display themselves. The girl from one is fiddling anxiously. I sit in my allocated chair, next to Lindon, fury burning inside of me, as I watch heads swivel to us. "Was it too much." He asks quietly, his voice smaller than a mouse, I look at him disbelievingly. He hangs his head in shame as the voice over the speaker turns on.

"Welcome tributes, you shall be called one by one to have your private training sessions. These will commence shortly." The voice over the speaker halts briefly, I scan my eyes over the few people I have met, and the few I have avoided, some have their eyes closed, some are imitating statues, and others are fiddling nervously, awaiting their turn.

"Regina King" the voice boomed, every one turned their head to look at her, I noticed just how pretty she was, blonde hair, blue eyes, slender and a vacant expression held up her face as she let go of her district partners hand, his eyes lingering on hers briefly as if wishing her luck. She walked through the door at the end of the corridor, leaving twenty three of us left. I felt it burn as the boy from one flicked his gaze down the line, every one drop their gaze, but his eye found mine, a slight sense of sadness hidden with in them, a sense of anger too. He held my eyes for a second, before dropping it to examine his hands carefully, I had the feeling he hung out with the careers, yet was a little insecure about himself, and about his life to date. I was almost sympathetic as I swept my gaze down the line, til I hit the two tributes from district two, it was gone instantly, because they were both laughing loudly, rudely, ruining the moment.

A few minutes passed and I examined visually each tribute as they moved off to their training session. The boy from district one was tall, blonde and muscular, any sense of weakness was gone from his blue eyes as he stood up and marched from the room.

The girl from district two is short, yet holds a constantly fierce and superior attitude, with dark hair yet striking light eyes; she is one who I would not like to meet alone on occasion. Her district partner is very similar, tall, also exceptionally muscled, with dark hair, and dark knitted eyes in a constant angry expression. I feel these two were going to be high scoring and dangerous.

The tributes from district three came next, both are quiet, seem to be from oriental descendants, they share the same traits of being short, with black hair, dark eyes, and a kind, simple expression. I feel these two have no faith in themselves here.

The tributes from district four stand with grace, and a certain air of humility, yet I know that they are deadly. The boy, who I had met before, shared the same features with his friend; both were younger than the other careers, blonde hair, and blue eyes, slender and tall.

I had also met the boy from district five; he smiled weakly at me as he passed to his training. The girl from this district is quite young, with brown hair, dark eyes and a petite figure. The boy was taller, older, and probably a bit older than me; brown eyes and brown hair were shared features between the two.

The two from district six were quite different, the girl is short, quiet, brown hair, and brown eyes, she hold a certain air to her though, as though she knows something you don't, it makes me uncomfortable. The boy however is tall, muscular, and also quiet, with black hair and dark eyes.

I missed watching the other tributes walking past, as I heard my name called over the speaker "Cassia Green." I rose, my hand trembling slightly, I walked gently from the room, by gently, I mean I walked as best I could, before accidently kicking the door frame and stumbled my way into the hall.

The room looked exactly like it had during training, I absently started walking over to the wall that once held the fish tails of rope, readying myself mentally to climb it and start what I would be doing. I looked up, my eyes finding the wall, my head snapped around, looking desperately. The head game-maker smiled smugly at me. I knew this was meant to be the ultimate challenge, I could have cursed to the gods of the moon, but it wouldn't have helped, because they, like me, are dead.

The walls have panels in them, about a half a metre by half a metre. I grasp one, about third from the floor with my hands and pull myself up. I feel the aches in my body from the previous days, the sweat on my palms, the nerves dancing in my throat. I climb, until I am about two metres from the ceiling. That's when I realise, how awfully stupid I have been today. The rope ladder is gone, and the platform has moved, it is now much further away from the wall, level with me now. The climb had been stifling but I knew this was going to be harder.

I furthered myself to the roof, hanging from the top panel, looking over my shoulder to my death. The panels were the same size, but I had no foot holds, no means to keep myself up, other than my fingertips. I swung to the first one, grasping at it frantically, my fingers slipping ridiculously. I swung over two more, with speed to get myself over more. I have no hope if I fall now.

I swung onto the fifth panel, now about three metres from the wall, my fingers strained on the metal, my sweaty hands were not coping with the strain now. I swung to the next panel, I new it was a long shot, and then I knew it would be my end. The snapping sound and feeling of my fingers was atrocious, I could feel the pain burning up my arm, but my other hand slipped. They say the world moves in slow motion when you are falling, I believe it now.

I had fallen from height before, but never as far as about fifteen metres, like now. I had no luck at the other end either, the ground rushed to me, the slowed down reactions of the game makers was scary, I could hear their audible gasps from the balcony.

I hit something before the ground, a fire burning through my stomach as the point of the spear rushed through me. My vision hazed, the black blurry ceiling was the only thing I could see, the pain and the hot sticky blood was the only thing I could feel, the sounds ringing in my ears were almost as painful, some were screams from the game makers, others cheered as I blacked out on the cold floor of the training centre.

My eyes woke with a flutter; the bright lights were blinding at first, but not as bad after a while. I recall everything that had gone wrong with the training, Lindon admitting how he felt, and then me, with my shot nerves climbing an impossible wall, before falling into a rack of spears. I guess I have all the luck.

If the light hadn't been that bad to start, a doctor waved a light before my eyes, peering down at me, nodding gently, before taking off his mask. He has a relatively normal face for the capitol, be smiled to me. "You have been unconscious for only about half an hour" he said gently, I took this in, I was expecting to have been sedated, drugged, and held under for days, this seemed like a miracle. "You have been fully restored to health, the wound took a while to mend but it is gone now." He said, placing a gentle hand on my head, took a while to mend, like ten minutes, that is not a long time for what I know.

The man stepped back from the bed, removing his hand from my head. "You may stand up now, and go back to your floor." He said patiently, waiting for me to move. Gingerly, I shifted my legs to the floor, I felt a new spring in each step as I placed my feet onto the floor, I stood gently, taking in the changes. The doctors had probably replaced my bones with rubber, the way they felt, I wouldn't have know the difference, I felt ready for anything, considering, I had almost impaled myself to death. The doctor studied me with his eyes for a minute, before nodding to a pile of clothes in the corner, "The elevator is just outside the door." He said quietly, walking out through the door of the small white room. I felt right as rain when I pulled of a hospital gown, obviously placed there to save what is left of my dignity. I pulled on the uniform, exactly the same as what I was wearing this morning, down to the underwear.

The elevator seemed to go so quickly, I was out in no time, I felt like the entire world had sped up somehow. The doors sprung open, and Mandel, Imelda and Lindon's stylist stood around the doors, a pair of warm hands grabbed my shoulder, dragging me to a couch, I realised how dazed I was. "How was it?" Mandel demanded, excited. I realise they think I had a long chat with the game makers, reasoning why I would be the best tribute, showed them everything that I can wonderfully do, and then meandered up here. I couldn't tell them how wrong they were, I just nodded gently, saved by the sound of the elevator door springing open. Lindon's face looked like a sheet of paper, his eyes met mine, and I knew he knew something had happened.

I was even more of a goner than I was before.


	14. Chapter 13

A/N That took Forever!

Chapter Thirteen

Lindon's prying eyes were begging for me to tell them what happened, I didn't really want to do that though, I wasn't in the mood for sharing, seeing as I had just blown any chance I had of a great score. Lindon had the sense to him that he knew something had happened in my session, something bad, but wasn't certain himself. I guess it too the entire thirty minutes to clean up the pool of blood, no surprise they didn't let him see that. Mandel let Lindon sit next to me, A bit unusual for my eccentric stylist, but then he flicked on the project, causing the face of Caesar Flickerman to start dancing across the screen, it would be hours before that had the results, we were just watching past games. As much as I have hated the earlier games, I understand the tributes, panic, pain and worry in the arena, I know why they kill others, it is that or be murdered yourself. I guess they all had things to live for.

They were showing on the screen the games from several years ago, when the entire room was filled with the screams as a tribute was electrocuted by a trap made by the game makers, it sickly reminded me of the game makers earlier. I rose in my chair, wobbling slightly, and head spinning. "I'm going to my room." I mutter, rushing towards my room, stumbling blindly around the array of furniture, I was coming off the high of the healing now, everything was spinning.

The carpet was the most soothing thing I could find, it was a comforting thing, always there when I fell head first. I sat in the middle of the room, tears leaking profoundly down my hot cheeks, I had no idea why, but it felt like the time to cry. One hand held my knees, drawn close to my chest, head resting, racking sobs, onto them. My other hand lay on the floor, stoking the shag carpet in a synchronised motion with my tears. The feeling raking through my body is tearing the final pieces of my sanity into, teeny, tiny pieces. I had no hope for anything left after this, Rowan, dead, in a cold hard box after the reaping. My parents, gone into the oblivion of a hellish fire that, with all sense of finality, stole my childhood from me. I could not fully comprehend what I would be like if I had actually seen my brother murder those peacekeepers, in anger of what happened to me, screaming for justice.

The weighting feeling of the guilt is holding strong upon my chest, everything is my fault, My parents stayed home alone, knowing I was not coming in early, thus leaving their morning walk for later, never reaching that time of the day, burned in their own home, waiting for me to return. Ogden died in a fury at peacekeepers, a fury that was lead on by me, in all sense of the manner. Rowan died because he told me a piece of information that I was not meant to know, shot from this would into hell.

The weighting feeling fell further, my chest heaved, all happiness wearing off from the capitol drugs. My eyes tear streaked burned in the light, as I try to hide them from the world. Do I fight? Do I keep going, to stay alive in memory of them? Or do I let myself give up hope, die miserable and alone, waiting for the afterlife to be back in the grasp of those who love me? I tried to think what would make those I love most happy, dying to be with them, or living to honour them. I knew the answer my parents would want me to do, the hardest for me to do. Die trying. They would want me to try my hardest to live and honour them, or be killed trying. I don't even know if I have the courage to fight any longer, loose much more. A hallucinogenic feeling rushes over me, warm arms engulfing me in a certain comfort that always held me, I think of Rowans admiration for the courage I have always had, the times I have tried to do thing he never thought possible. I wonder what he would think of what have been doing this past week, fighting to prove myself worthy to live through a competition to the death.

My brain clung onto these ideas for hours; the warm feeling of encircled arms still holds over me, the feeling of engulfment in a certain familiar warmth is so real it is confusing. I upheave my eyes off my clutched legs to find the familiar arms are clutching to me. The twinkle in his green eyes hold the same as everything I know, his strong arms feel the same as I have always remembered, the smell of forest that he radiates is upsettingly familiar. My blurred vision grows steady, his dark hair shorter than usual, yet his eyes, his expression, so similar. I flinch back, falling away from his embrace. I am in the ever present arms of Rowan, but I know I cannot be, for he is in the land of the dead. Everything about this scene screams dream to me, telling me that it isn't real, simply an idea in my head, an idea that is crying with me, holding my body in a snug embrace. I try to tell myself that it is not true, that he will never hold me again, but his ever-green eyes smile sadly at me in the gloom of night.

Hours have passed before I feel the need to move again, a pale sunlight flickering over the horizon of the windows, I know I will have to get up, go on, and leave my hallucination of my dead lover behind in the mist of memory that is slowly being eaten away. I lift my head when the morning light is shining through the window, the streaming ray bringing back sharp memories. I raise wobbling, the hallucination of Rowan swimming in my eyes, rising up to meet my hand, holding my fingers lightly as if to try to steady me.

I wipe my eyes, allowing the hand to hold mine a little longer; the comfort they draw is weird in its own way, real, but almost not quite right. I steady my eyes, focusing on the face of my dreams. I pull back, almost letting out a shocked gasp, but it has already been knocked out of me by a night of crying.

Lindon's face is looking at me sadly, as though he has many regrets, and I know what he said earlier, what he has done now, and it puts fire within me. I raise myself off the floor, and he follows suit, standing steadily next to me. I waiver slightly as I start walking, threatening to fall, but I don't, I storm out of my room, and into the living room again. I find myself confronted by Mandel, waiting at the door, as if he was just coming to wake me up. He sees my look of thunder, and leaves me to it, and walks patiently back to the table, which is where I retreat to and sit at my place.

I know what today is, today is the day where I go and look pretty for an interview. Well, whoopee doo. I didn't think that was really on my agenda, seeing as the boys here will need to start making a line now. I have a heart for only one man, and he is long gone, and so are my ideas to make friends with boys. Mandel forcefully places a piece of toast on my plate, staring at me harshly, as sort of, 'suck it up sweetie' look. I munch unhappily on the dry bread; Lindon has a strange air to him this morning, probably because I am treating him like a dead rat. No sympathy.

I feel the time ticking away uncomfortably when Lindon's stylist shuffles silently into the room, looking at him, signalling that it is time for him to prepare for his interview. I always imagined we would have some form of coaching, but then again, we are meant to have mentors and escorts, but neither of those bothers to show up either. I can tell by the startling gaze that makes me uncomfortable, coming from Mandel that I have to go as well. I sit drawn out in the dining room for a few minutes after Lindon has gone, just to try and make an annoying point.

Mandel walks me silently towards a room on this floor, where I have never been; I gather it is my prep room for the night. Mandel gets me to lie down, and I don't really feel like arguing. I watch as Mandel fiddles around in a box of makeup again, and then examines a dress bag for about five minutes before inviting me to stand up.

His gentle expression is really comforting, even if I am angry with everything, I find it really hard to be angry with him, stay angry with him. He smiles, looking at me in his own way. "You might like this dress a bit more" Mandel whispered, unzipping the dress bag and showing it to me. Yeah, I might like that dress more, to wear to a lingerie party with only Rowan attending.

Mandel makes me slip it on, insisting upon watching how it fits, and poking me occasionally. I pull it on gently. Think to myself that I probably should have been intelligent and told him I didn't want to show too much skin. Probably should have seen that memo.

The dress is excessively slim fitting, it is short. There is a band of fabric over my bust, one over my butt, and the rest of the dress is entirely lace. It is deep velvet green, rippling throughout, the lace entwines leaves and roses in its pattern, making me shimmer. The dress is low cut at the top, and short at the bottom. Exactly what I thought Mandel wanted me in. I raise my eyebrow at him, and I can see he is smiling eagerly at me, eyes lingering quickly on my exposed skin. I want to slap him

"You look beautiful" he utters, I look at him disbelievingly. "Yeah and…" I say, trying to pry him to say something, but he doesn't, he just turns away and blushes. "Lie down again Cassie" he says patiently, fiddling around in his box. He places his hand on my tummy and he cranes himself over my face, I close my eyes as he starts.

I sit up a few hours later, having been primed and preened like a canvas. My hair had been curled gently, my face painted, and my body touched up in ways I didn't even know you could. I open my eyes to a slight in the mirror that looks like unquenchable beauty. Glowing skin and a smile to break hearts, the green dress is perfectly fitted and is a heart throb. Mandel has done my makeup so it is a barky brow, and then he has painted tiny little green leaves above my eyes, to match the dress. I know it's perfect to get people to notice me, wether I want them to or not.

About twenty minutes later I am standing by the elevator, having landed on the ground floor, waiting for my queue to move from the lift. Ushers and Avoxes place me into a line of people, who I recognise as my fellow tributes.

The boy from four smiles at me as I take my place. The daze of lights confuses me as everyone goes to their interviews. I feel a gently pair of hands on my shoulder as they push me out into the lights.

"Welcome!" I hear Caesar Flickermans call to me over the screaming crowd.

"Hello" I say politely, sitting in the comfy loveseat next to him, he smiles down at me.

"How are you finding the capitol Cassia?" he asks gently, I laugh lightly.

"I have to find it with a Map, Caesar." I say earnestly, watching as he starts laughing, the entire crowd starts laughing, I smile patiently.

"I'll remember that one." He chortles.

"I hope I'll be able to come back and talk with you again." I say,

"So do I Cassia" he says earnestly, running his hand through his multi-coloured hair.

I just smile politely at him.

"What is your favourite part of the Capitol Cassie?" he asks, continuing the conversation

"The entertainment" I say, simply because it is the first thing that comes to my head. He nods.

"What is your favourite weapon?" he asks, I am unsure of what to answer.

"My heart" I whisper, thinking it will leave me mysterious and desirable. The crowd stays still.

"Oh, yes? Well we did all see you're reaping huh?" says Caesar, flicking the audience a naughty glare.

I smile and giggle for him, playing along with what he is doing.

"Is there a special boy back home?" he asks, and I realise why I didn't want anyone to ask me that question, because the answer has changed. My lover is dead, gone, and I will have nothing to say, because I cannot say there is no one, as his family are forced to watch this. Yet I can not say there is someone, because really, he is gone now.

I realise I have pause, mouth open, ready to give an answer. "There is some one near to my heart Caesar." I say quietly.

"And do they know you exist?" he asks, the question feeling oddly blunt.

I try my best to look embarrassed. "Yes Caesar."

"And when you go home, how do you think they will greet you?"

I wanted to curse in black and blue and Bulgarian for the question even passing through his lips. "He will greet me a while afterwards, when the partying has stopped. We will be alone, in a garden full of flowers, and that is where I will go after the celebration has ended." I say, it kind of has two meanings, meeting Rowan again in a garden of flowers, or you could just call it a cemetery.

"And what was the last thing he said to you Cassie?" he asks,

"Be Careful" I whisper the forbidden words. I look up at Caesar, and he nods gently.

"One last thing Cassia, What do you think will be your greatest strength to get in the arena?" he asks solemnly.

I have to think about it for a moment. Then i know the answer.

"Luck Caesar, because without it, things wont really go your way." I say, looking deep into his confusing eyes.

He takes this information as the buzzer rings', signifying that it is time for me to leave. I stand awkwardly and match Caesar to a hug, before walking off stage into darkness.


End file.
